Ups and Downs

Sunday, 5 May 2013

Today I came back to Kérou. I think this is the most excited I’ve ever been to be back. And that is quite remarkable, since I’ve actually had a pretty incredible last three weeks. I got to see a lot of fellow Peace Corps volunteers, and partied a lot. I spent two weekends in a row going out dancing in Cotonou; then one weekend in Nati, plus some pool time. Pretty relaxing. Plus, I only got stuck in the medical unit for one week; so that’s a record escape time! But as I mentioned, it did give me the chance to party a little more in the big city and meet some cool people there; so I’m really okay with that.

The point is, however, that despite all this good stuff happening elsewhere, I was still really happy to get back to Kérou. It is my current home after all. It was almost comforting to be back. Of course, I also had my kitty to greet me. Luna was terribly annoying, refusing to leave my side, and biting me if I stopped petting her for even one second. It felt nice to be loved/missed. My neighbors, too, were happy to see me back. And then I walked into town, greeted by the usual chorus of “BATOORI MA SOEUR”, but to my everlasting delight, these children were actually told off, and chased away by this old man. I finally feel like I might be fitting in. Well, no, not fitting in. But just becoming more part of the community. People know me; remember me; notice when I’m gone, and have started listening when I say I don’t like being called “white person”, etc. I also have plenty of work looking up at me, so I’m really ready for all of that.

Then, to top it all off, I discovered that MY FRIDGE WORKS. No need to think about how many times I’m going to call Hubert or the Mayor’s accountant or the electrician. Nope. It’s just done. Set and ready to go!!!!!!!!!!!!! And tomorrow is market day, so I can go fill up on whatever veggies I can manage to find and not worry about if they’re going to go bad tomorrow. And I can have cold water. AND MAKE SWEET TEA. Oh my goodness, my life is wonderful.

Wednesday, 8 May 2013

Well let’s just say the lord giveth and the lord taketh away. (no, it’s not my fridge). Last night I finally had my proper greeting to the north in the form of intense intestinal malfunction. Let’s just say that I didn’t make it to the bathroom, and as I’m cleaning up after myself, I just started crying, wondering what the heck I am doing here. My body must hate me for all the sickness and infections and just general. And often I feel like such a failure because I suck at going out and making friends, connections, etc. I’m scared to talk to people. I procrastinate so much at the thought of having to actually put myself out there. How can I actually say I’m a good volunteer? So I start thinking this, and then thinking about everything else that ever went wrong in my life (especially about my father), and eventually find myself bawling my eyes out into my pillow, praying that my neighbors can’t hear me. Although they probably can. They hear me when I talk to myself (don’t judge me!), how could they miss me absolutely wailing. Then I reasoned that in movies, people use pillows as silencers for guns, so the pillow has to have drowned out my cries. I really, really hope so. I also finished by writing this inspiring piece:

LOW POINT

You’re supposed to get over your grief in a damn time, a moment of reconciliation with reality. BUT you don’t. It lingers there. Even past the anniversary when you pretend you’re over it. You pretend that you’re not shocked. It’s been three years. You pretend you’ve moved on. But ever still it lingers, until you’re crying yourself to sleep in a concrete box in Africa. Saying he still would’ve wanted you to be here. Which he would. But damn, why does it have to be so hard? WHY is it that it’s the first time, three years later, when I realize that this is the first time I’ve really let myself cry? For real. The first time I haven’t been trying so hard to hide it from people around me. No, I let loose. GRANTED into a pillow. A pillow to suffocate my despair. At least I hope it did. Otherwise, it’ll be awkward in the morning with the neighbors.

But a pillow. Three years and some odd days later. God knows I have not been counting the days like I used to.

WOULD I GIVE IT UP? I look at my life, and for a moment I think “YES!” But then I remember that this has also in a way brought me closer to my father: the man, the farmer, the accountant.

I realize now, I’ve been working a lot only on those last two, or at least things related to them. Okay, neither of those are easy. But being the man that he was; that’s the hard part. Can I just talk to people; listen and learn? To not mind being stranded or lost on the road or in a crowd. To bring in clients after a few chats and make friends with ease.

But can I ever be like that? I’m scared. To talk to people. To have them judge me. But maybe I’m like my Mother. Just scared of my potential.

WHO KNOWS?

But is that a cop-out? Maybe I’m just actually lazy and lying that being scared is my excuse. But how can I say I’m lazy? Okay, sometimes when I’m actually in village, people tell me I work too hard. They joke that I can’t stand NOT to be working. But that doesn’t account for the hours I spend at the bar, or watching shows on my computer, or surfing the internet. Sure I need time for myself, but I need to spend way more time making that effort. But I do try. EVERY DAY. I’m not sure if that makes me a good volunteer or not. But does it matter? Who am I here for? Me? Then I’m probably doing a shitty job. Because my body is deteriorating from the inside and out, and it seem like my mental state suffers from extremes as well. On the other hand, I’m growing. Am I here for the Beninese? It’s so hard to see if I’m actually doing something useful. For my future career? Not if my future employer ever reads this blog…

In the end, I hope to make a difference; of sorts. Hey, it’s Peace Corps in Africa. I can’t have to high of expectations; except of myself.

Anyway, those were my thoughts at their rawest, slightly incoherent form. Sometimes, it just helps me to write things out, and I did try to conclude on a somewhat uplifting note. Anyway, I hope you don’t mind this unpleasantness of my entry, but to quote Marilyn Monroe, “…if you can’t take me at my worst, then you certainly don’t deserve me at my best.”

I once told someone that Peace Corps is just a journey of extreme ups, and extreme downs, with A LOT of waiting in between. I’m just here, trying to help people, but it also requires that I make sense of my own life here; my own presence and purpose. It’s so easy to be conquered by your own demons when you are sitting in the dark surrounded by concrete and dirt, with an angry stomach, and far from anyone you know. Luckily, things such as cell phones exist, so I was able to talk to a fellow Peace Corps volunteer, just so she could make me laugh and what not. Later I talked to my mom as well. We both suffer from a lot of the same insecurities and roadblocks, but it’s good to talk to each other. We know where are faults are; but we often need someone else just to say, “GET OVER IT, and just do what you need to do!!!”

Every day is a struggle. I don’t mean just me, here, in Africa. But I know that every person struggles with their own problems, their own failures, their own needs daily. And everyone’s is different. And I would never want to insinuate that my problems are worse. You just have to read about them, because, well, it’s MY blog.

There are so many ways in which I disappoint myself. I tell myself that “I exist to serve” and I strive for that, yet in so many ways I just sit around and serve my only gluttony and sloth. I tell myself I’m the nice person, yet I see myself doing wrong to others. So I must work every day to change. Every day to use these depressing thoughts, and these LOW POINTS in my life to push myself to do better, do what I need to do for my happiness, as well as the happiness of those I wish to serve. Every day, work to be a better person. And to make the world a better place just by doing that.

Sunday, 12 May 2013

You’ll be happy to know that my life did improve over the next few days. Wednesday morning, I went and talked to my tailor, who called out my extremely swollen eyes, but then blamed it on my moto ride back to Kérou. I didn’t bother to correct him that the ride was days ago.

I also went to talk with an artisan who in charge of Ben Club’s new accounting notebook that I set up. He had been collecting the information, such as who paid their weekly fees, but didn’t want to enter it all in the final ledger, since he’s still not entirely sure of what he’s doing. I’m trying really hard to explain it in the way that he understands WHY he has to do certain things, etc, instead of just “Do this! Do that!” It’s frustrating for both of us, because I think he just wants to have me tell him what to do, and this way it goes a little slower. But this is the only way that he will still be able to do this after I’m gone, no matter what situations arise.

After doing this, I went to see a man named Ibe, who has his own garden right beside this swamp area. He apparently been around and friends with westerners for a while, and was friends with a French volunteer who worked at the Catholic Mission at the time that Ben (of the Ben Club) was here. Anyway, Anna was there the other day, and he asked her to help him do financial planning, so she referred him to me, and we set up a little meeting to talk about his current state of finances, and then go from there. It was really interesting showing him the calculations. He knows, for example, how much he made from gardening last year, and approximately how much his wife makes selling things at the market. But he’s never sat down and calculated it all out. Although when I showed him that his wife makes about twice as much as he does a year, he just kind of accepted that. “Yes, I kind of figured that. The women, they can make so much money just selling things at market!” The problem, he notes, is that almost all of the money his wife does make just goes to sending money or gifts, etc to people who are celebrating a major life event, whether it be a birth, death, or marriage, etc. One thing that did shock him was the idea that you need to take out all the expenses of your business (in this case, his garden) from the gross income to find the profit. “I’ve never thought of that before…” he says. Something that seems so obvious to me, but I guess that’s the advantage of being raised by accountants. Anyway, I’ve told him to start writing down each transaction (income and expenses) for his household, then soon I’ll sit down with him and show him how to put it all in categories, so he can see if he’s following his budget.

Thursday I went with Pierre to Fétékou. It was actually a very disheartening trip. Apparently, due to the very early and hard rains we’ve been having, their garden, which of course is located in what is usually a lake, has mostly flooded. Usually this happens about a month later, so they had planted thinking that. Now, their plants were not ready, but are underwater, except for a few plots that were on higher ground. Many women are very discouraged, because they were really planning on the later crops, such as tomatoes to be the real money plants, and where they would make the extra money to put into the savings that I’m helping them with. I did some looking around as to what might be done for next year, so this situation could be avoided. The best—but most expensive—thing to do would be to build some smaller dams up from the gardening plot, so as to keep more of the water there, rather than letting it all flow into their gardening area. I am also by no means an engineer, so I don’t know how much advice I can really give. Time to do some researching…

The Fétékou garden. Or what's left of it, floating in the water.

That evening I went to Gouginnou, which is Hubert’s village. There is a gardening group there that the NGO FAFA gave a lot of money to (about $8,000), so they are one that I have to go to, and talk to three women, and fill out a notebook on their inputs and outputs. This is a most interesting story, because I asked the women about seeds, fertilizer, insecticide, etc, and their response is that the gardening group paid for everything. Which is to say Hubert bought everything—probably with FAFA’s money, even though that money was destined primarily for potatoes. Then, for the potatoes, Hubert actually planted all of them on his land, using his children as labor (the women don’t actually know how to plant potatoes, they’ve never done that before), and he (or his children, rather) watered them occasionally with his moto pump, and some complicated system of moving dirt around to direct the water flow. The women occasionally weeded, then helped harvest them, and Hubert gave them all potatoes to sell on their own. Some of them made up to $50 or so. Other than that, however, their garden was almost entirely a bust. I think that had to do with the poor quality of soil. It’s a new garden, and hasn’t really been prepped for having crops grow on it, so things just didn’t grow well. All they got out of it was perhaps a little for the family to eat, and for one women a goat ate all of that too. At least they didn’t put any money into it!

When they tell me how things are really working, though, I wonder if I should mention any of this to FAFA. I mean, they gave this group quite a significant amount of money, which Hubert just seems to be gifting out in an attempt to motivate the women, earn their favor, and maybe actually get the gardening group to function. But clearly, this experiment was utterly unsuccessful. The women sold nothing, except for what Hubert gave them, and really, how does that help them? They have a few extra francs, but no actual knowledge of how to grow potatoes, if they wanted to try on their own next year. Plus I utterly fail to see how some fertilizer, insecticide, and having someone come to build the gardening rows costs $8,000. And then I was talking to Hubert and he said, “You know, one problem this year was the water. FAFA promised to build us a cistern, but they didn’t!” And I’m just staring at him like, “Well maybe you could have used some of the $8,000????” But then again, I don’t know the inner dealings between Hubert and FAFA, and where this money has all gone, but given the previous rumors around Hubert…I just can’t believe that he’s all innocent and not on the take.

But then I ask the women if they are happy with this situation. They’re response is that “Well, it’s not bad.” They get free stuff, get to hope that maybe next year they can actually sell the things they grow. In their view, Hubert is just trying to help them. Even if it means they have to lie and say that they really did work with the potatoes, etc. If Hubert weren’t around in the first place, they wouldn’t have any of this. So Hubert gets to skim off a lot of money just because he knows how to make the right people happy. Politics. Sigh.

So the weekend was filled with artisans meetings, as usual. Plus I had a meeting to see who was interested in participating in the “Second Ben Club”. Hopefully this will help more people get involved, as well as those disheartened by the current political climate in the first Ben Club. Unfortunately, the only people that showed up were Mechanics, who had the advantage of having their own meeting RIGHT before the one I organized. But there have been more people who have expressed interest in getting involved, so I will spend this week going around to them and reminding them to come to the next meeting.

Tonight, I was supposed to have a meeting about the Reading & Writing class I organized for the Artisans. It was going fine, but then there was like one week that the teacher couldn’t make it, and after that, everyone stopped coming, even though I told them that it was back on. Then I was gone, and of course, nothing improved. So I want to organize a committee of people who will kind of manage the class, keep up the correspondence, etc. Of course, it rained, so the meeting didn’t happen. (No one wants to travel anywhere on their motos—or in my case, my bike—in the pouring down rain.) Guess we’ll have to see for next week. Constant informed me that he can’t have the classes this week anyway, since he is studying for an exam he must take if he wants to possibly become a director in the school.

Saturday, 18 May 2013

Another week gone by. And once again, all I have to say for myself is that I did a lot and absolutely nothing.

Monday, I spent the whole morning at the bank, well because nothing actually works fast in this country. It took an hour alone just for Pierre and I to make deposits into 7 different accounts. It’s actually really depressing though. Apparently, years ago, there used to be a CLCAM actually in Fétékou, but then one day the bosses decided that the more remote locations were costing more than they were making, and shut them down. This is reasonable, but then what happened was a bunch of these women had accounts there, still with money in them. But there was no longer a place near them where they could take their money out, so they just left it. Then each year, the CLCAM took out their fee, and now, after so many years, it’s all gone. Women lost anywhere between $1.40 to $20. For me it seems like a huge scam by the CLCAM, to go into these villages, take people’s money, and then just up and leave. Obviously, I don’t think they conspired to do this, in fact they probably had great aspirations to be able to serve the most remote people in Benin, and then realized it was a bad decision for their business. But on the other hand, maybe they could have thought, “well, we’ll make an exception for those people who were in villages where we shut the CLCAM’s down; we won’t charge fees.” But I guess that would be TOO much thinking outside the box.

On the other hand, I also realize that if a woman couldn’t bother to spend about $1 to come into Kérou to retrieve her $20 from the bank, maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal. I’m just not entirely sure that everyone understood exactly what happens to their money. I remember one artisan saying to me when I asked him if other artisans had personal savings accounts, something like, “Well, some people used to have accounts there, but then there was a rumor that the CLCAM took your money!” Umm…that’s what fees are.

Anyway, I would feel really guilty about encouraging the women to deposit their money, if it weren’t for the fact that the CLCAMs have decided to only charge fees for accounts that exceed $40. Most of the women wont have more than that, and if they are getting close I will at least encourage them to keep it at $39. Besides, if they are motivated to give now, hopefully they completely understand that they will have to go into Kérou and retrieve it. I just feel in some ways like the former Fétékou CLCAM: easy to deposit, hard to take out. On the other hand, a lot of the women are talking about how much they want to be able to take out loans (despite my exquisite drawings  and flawless presentation on how costly loans are, and how much better it is just to save), so they will have to come into Kérou at least once a month to pay that back. So anyway, I just hope that I’m actually doing something good here.

Plus Tuesday, I went back to Fétékou, and discovered that the entire garden has now been wiped out. Even those lucky women who had some access to their plants before have lost whatever was left. So I’m worried that if that were to happen again, then these women, to whom I’ve given help in getting credit, won’t be able to pay that credit back, will be strapped with debt… and so on.

But then I go to their new site, which is a field on the other side of town from their old garden. This, they will actually be able garden during the rainy season as well, because it’s not in the middle of a lake. Plus I think they are getting their water from a water tower near by, meaning they could set up a decent irrigation system. It was really incredible to see these women, who have just had their crops destroyed, right back at it. They were turning over all the earth, in what I feel could actually literally back-breaking work. All they have is some hoes, and they just lean over, hacking away at the earth. And some of these women are pretty old! I just don’t know how they do it. Both mentally and physically. To be so devastated by the loss of their plants, then just go the next day and labor away in the sun, getting ready to plant the next round.

The women working on their new gardening site

I talked with them about their dam, about their plans for this garden, their savings, etc. Then Pierre and I headed back. Oh, and on the way Pierre happens to see someone selling guinea fowl eggs (it’s apparently the season for these eggs, since guinea fowls start laying them when it rains. Which also means, that if you have some guinea fowls, and want them to give you eggs, apparently all you have to do is just literally water them with a watering can, and they’ll think the rainy season has started. I think that officially makes them dumber than chickens, and that’s saying a lot!). Anyway, we stop and buy them, and he gives them to me like, “Can you hold these for me.” A little bit later, we see someone selling a chicken, so he stops, and I tell him there is no way I am holding the chicken for him. He buys it anyway, and then just hangs it off the handle of his bike, all the way back to Kérou. Oh, Africa.

Friday, 31 May 2013

So I’ve been really slack about writing lately, as you’ve probably noticed. I’ve been really down lately, and lacking in motivation, etc. Then the past few days I’ve been in Parakou, a large city in Benin. There were some other volunteers here, and they started discussing amongst themselves how they are all going throught their “mid-service crisis”. This is apparently something that all volunteers experience about a year into their service, where they seem to get depressed, upset, etc. I kind of realized that this is probably what I’ve been feeling lately, ever since the night I wrote the sad piece up above in italics. Then I felt mad, because that just means I’m normal. I think I mentioned at the beginning of my service that I didn’t feel like I needed some of the adjustment training, blah, blah, blah, because I want to believe that I’m stronger than that, and I’ll be just fine. Culture shock and mid-service crisis are not for me! I guess I’ve been proved wrong, but now that I’ve realized what was going on, I suddenly have this huge desire to NOT be like the common folk (although, honestly, it’s not right to call my fellow volunteers common. They all are really amazing, strong people, and it’s silly for me to feel like I’m any better. Actually some of them are way better at this thing than me, but still I have this reaction that I can’t help. I guess just the desire to feel special or something). I guess it’s a good thing though, because now I want to snap out of it. I want to prove that I’m still strong, that I won’t be pulled down by this depressing cycle.

So I’ve spent the last days at this training learning things, obviously, but also contemplating what I want to do when I get back to Kérou, for the next year, and then after that—whether it’s staying a year or doing something else. I kind of have a bunch of different things that I want to do, so we’ll see how it turns out.

Monday, 17 June 2013

So… still slacking at the writing thing, sorry. I guess the main problem is that there isn’t much to report. Gardening season is over, though the women at Fétékou are starting up their new rainy-season garden. But I’m not going there as much, and not at all to the other gardening groups. My artisans don’t really need me. I am trying with the new Village Savings and Loans group, but every week people miss it or it rains… sigh. The literacy classes are floundering. Oh, and after a whole month of waiting for the report to help me with chicken coop from the people in Nati, I get this photocopy of a diet regime for chickens, and the prices of some items like feeders scrawled out on a piece of paper. I am so mad, because these people promised me they would write out dimensions for the building I needed to build, how many feeders I would need—not just individual prices—and so much more. I’ve been putting off thinking about this project, because I figured I would jump so much on it when I finally got the report they promised me. But now I realized I’ve wasted a whole month for some last-minute crap. I hate people. Whatever, I guess I’ll just have to figure it out on my own, like I had originally planned.

Otherwise, I’ve been just plodding along. The rainy season is killing me, because I’ll spend one day twiddling my thumbs, then the next day, I might even have a full(ish) schedule that just gets ruined by the rains, and I’m stuck inside, twiddling my thumbs again.

I did have one successful thing, though. A local gardener, Ibe, had asked Anna to help him with financial stuff. So she passed along that task to me. I think I mentioned this before, as I had already started working on it with him, but the other day, we went and finished up. I also had to talk to his wife to know how much was spent on food, since she is more in charge of that. Based on the information he gave me, and my calculations, his yearly household income is about 925,000 Francs (that’s about $1850), but the family spends about 1,400,000F ($2800). But just think about that. His income is $5 a day to take care of himself, 2 wives, and I’ve met at least 5 children so far. Ibe was really sobered by the numbers I gave him, realizing he is living above his means. So we discussed his two options: either to raise his income or lower spending. But that’s kind of hard to do. His wife already works every 3 days out of 4 selling things at market, and that is their largest income source. Ibe’s garden helps (both monetarily, as well as contributing to family nourishment), but it’s hard to expand beyond what he’s already doing. And spending-wise, even buying minimal food (mostly just rice, occasionally beans, and then a tiny bit of seasoning), it still costs about $1,000 a year. The only excess is soft drinks he gets for his kids. But who is going to tell their sweet faces no more sodas? So we talked about cutting back here and there. Trying to spend less in every category (such as clothes, personal items, the soft drinks, etc).

But I think the best accomplishment was that I gave him a notebook where he can help organize his expenses. One part is writing down every time he spends money, and then at the end of each week he adds up the totals for each category. He kept talking about how before he knew money came in and money went out, but had no way of tracking it or analyzing his spending patterns. And it’s especially hard when so much of his income and spending is irregular (harvest time vs. school payments, etc). Now I’ve broken the process down for him, and I’ll come back to help him analyze it. Hopefully this will help him get his spending under control. He was really, really grateful for my help, and I was glad to be able to give him that.

A part from this, I also randomly spent some time with his neice, but I did not know she was his niece at the time. I had met her once before, and she had been friends with a former volunteer. Mimi—that’s her name—happens to have an aunt who lives near me, so she saw, and came over to my house and chatted. Then she took me around. I met her aunt, who happens to make “chook”, which is homemade beer. We hung out there for a while, then she took me to her grandmother’s house. Her grandmother has a black cat (the first one I’ve seen in Benin)—which fits, as Mimi tells me she’s a sorceress and can see the future. We then went to her mom’s house, who also makes chook. There I met a man who seemed to be quite drunk on chook, and we had a conversation that went like this:

Man: “You’re from America!? I love America! It has 52 states.”

Me: “I’m sorry, what? How many states?”

Man: “52.”

Me: “No, it’s 50. There are 50 states.”

Man: “No it’s definitely 52. I know this. I’m a teacher.”

Me: “Well, but it’s my country. I know my country, and I know there are only 50 states.”

Man: “But I’m a teacher, I learned this, and there are 52.”

Me: (starting to worry more than ever for the school system in Benin) “No there is not. There are only 50. There are 50 stars on our flag, one for each state. 50 states.”

Man: “Your flag was made a long time ago.”

Me: “Yes, but it changes every time we add a new state.”

Man: “Well maybe it’s changed now, and you just didn’t know.”

Me: “I’m pretty sure I would know. It’s my country, and that would be a big deal.”

Man: “Maybe you’ve forgotten one.”

Me: “Like what?”

Man: “The one up above. With all the fish.”

Me: (trying to think of all of the costal states) “Okay, up above. Like Alaska?”

Man: “No, below that.”

Me: “Hawaii?”

Man: “No, lower.”

Me: (taking the leap to territories) “Guam? Puerto Rico? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Man: “There are 52 states.”

Me: “NO THERE’S NOT.”

At this point Mimi kicks my foot, and gives me this look to stop talking. She tells the man in English that she hates him (I assume because he was being rude to her guest), and then he insists that he speaks english better than her. That was a lie. Mimi speaks better English than him and can only say things like “I love you” “I hate you” “It’s my baby!” “I speak English small-small”. Eventually we both ignore him, and after a while he goes away. 5 minutes later, he returns, apparently attempting to impress this American with his faulty knowledge about her own country.

Man: “What state are you from?”

Me: “Maryland.” (which apparently sounded like ‘America’ to him)

Man: “Yes, I know you are from America, but what state?”

Me: “Maryland. MARYland. Merry-land. La terre de Mariam.”

Man: “Where is that?”

Me: “Near Washington.”

Man: “No it’s not. I know America very well, and your state cannot be near Washington. I know the states around Washington.”

Me: “HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY SAY THAT YOU KNOW MY COUNTRY???? YOU JUST TOLD ME THAT THERE ARE 52 STATES, THEN THAT MY STATE IS NOT WHERE IT IS. YOU’RE REALLY DUMB. PLEASE GO AWAY.”

We return to silence, and he pesters me for a while longer, then finally asks if he can leave. I reply “Yes, PLEASE LEAVE.” Then he just stares at me for a while, and asks again if he can leave. “YES, PLEASE LEAVE.” This goes on for a while, until one of his friends—who by the way, kept signaling to me behind his back that the man was obliterated and silently apologizing—finally managed to drag him away.

So, all in all an interesting night. I could do without the annoying man and his man-splaining, but, hey, it makes a good story. And while I was rude to him, I went out of my way to be extra pleasant to everyone else there. I didn’t let him ruin my night, and I think most people were sympathetic to me. Plus Mimi was a good friend, backing me up. I hope I get to see her more.

In other news, Anna has left Kérou. She is leaving earlier than some other volunteers, because she starts grad school a little over a week after she gets home. It sounds really stressful, but I’m sure she’ll figure it out. We had a little party for her, which was a huge success. Then spent some time just hanging out and saying goodbye. Kérou just won’t be the same without her.

And here are some pics just for fun:

Me and Maria

Luna and her bunny

Step By Step

Wednesday, 3 April 2013

Well, I think the rainy season is trying to start. Everyone says that it’s really not until June, and Anna swears she did not see a drop of water fall from the sky during this time last year. But it is now raining for the forth time this year in Kérou. And there have been many, many days where there have been very threatening clouds, but the rain has only fallen in towns south or west of us.

I will curse the rain every time I travel; the roads will be even worse than they are now. But hopefully I won’t be doing too much of that. Otherwise it’s great, mostly because I can start using rainwater. At the moment the water that comes off my roof is still a little too dirty for general use; but I soak my dirty pots in it to make them easier to clean, and stuff like that. During the rainy season, Anna says she will even drink the rain water, because the roofs have water fall on them almost every day, so there is no time for them to get dirty!

In general, the rain feels wonderful. It beats against my metal roof with this awesome rhythm; I can go out back of my house and just let it wash over my hot body; and in general it cools everything down. So yay rain. Except when I’m not already in my house. I really wonder what kind of work I’ll get done during the rainy season. I remember during post visit, I didn’t end up doing half the things Hubert and I scheduled due to the rain. On the other hand, one time I got stuck with Amina at her shop, and were it not for the fact that my Giardia decided to kick in at that moment (yay fever and running through the rain to the latrine), I’m sure we would have had a lovely time just sitting around talking over the pounding rain.

Anyway, Sunday I met again with the vet, Romeo, who is helping me with the chicken project. Apparently I misunderstood his plan the last time, and in fact there is only going to be two groups of chickens that rotate. And they’ll only overlap for 6 months: this is the 6 months of chicks growing to adults, when they have yet to lay eggs. Then, once the 6 months is up, he wants me just to kill all the old chickens at once (New movie idea: The Chicken Massacre) and store them in a freezer somewhere. This is so we don’t have to keep feeding them, etc, while waiting for people to buy them one by one. Oh, because he assumed, obviously, I’d be renting a boutique in Kérou, equipped with a huge freezer, and probably a generator so the chickens don’t go bad when the electricity is cut. WHY DOES THIS MAN KEEP GROWING MY PROJECT OUT OF CONTROL???

Monday I went to Kongorou, and met with the group there again. I told them about the 500 chickens and they seemed on board with it. Though, they were a little worried about the costs this will incur, and where they will get the money. Yesterday I found out that the Food Security grants only go up to $2,500, sometimes more for larger projects (the other chicken-raising project cost $4,000). My building alone would cost $5,000. Plus, the thing is, for grants the community must contribute at least 25% of the total costs of the project. Now, that can be “in-kind” donations, such as if they mayor just gives away the land, instead of making us pay for it. Or if a mason and/or carpenter does some of the job for free. Or, if instead of making this with cement which costs about 40 cents (per brick) to buy then have someone make them into bricks, I build it essentially with mud bricks, which cost 5 cents each, already made. Or I could just make it less chickens, but that wouldn’t really address the problem I want to. I’m also thinking of maybe taking the smaller grant, and building the smaller project, but with the goal to take most of the profits to expand the project. The problem with that, however, is that it seems that at this point, a lot of the Food Security funds are used up, so I may not be able to get it until December, which would not leave me enough time then to help them expand. So, the point is I have a lot of reflection and maneuvering and searching to do right now. What to do, what to do? In the mean time, however, the group has decided to start collecting weekly savings towards this project and their input. I want to set up a system to encourage everyone to actually contribute, which would essentially make it like they are buying shares. I’ll have to figure out how that will work, but at least at this point we have plenty of time to smooth out the details before we start, since I have to wait. And regardless of funding, if we are using mud bricks, then that means I have to wait until the dry season (it’s almost over now), around November.

Monday evening I went with Hubert to Fétékou. There is this NGO—FAFA—that has apparently given a lot of money to Fétékou and Gouginnou to help with their gardens. Now they want to use these groups to do a “test-run” of a tool they developed. It is essentially a notebook that records every input and output these women have, even including if they had a family member work for free. But they also want really accurate measurements to come by. So we have to do things like measure how much it is when they say “a pile” or “a basin”, etc. Hubert was there to measure out the exact size of the land of a particular woman’s plot. The NGO had given him a GPS thing, but of course technology never actually works in this country, and especially in the hands of someone who doesn’t even understand the concept of email. So it was unsuccessful. I did promise to try to figure out the tool, but we’ll see.

This is how women water their gardens

Sunset

Tuesday I went to Fétékou again, this time with Pierre, to start collecting savings for the women. Of course, no one is prepared for us, so we go to the main area first to talk to the women. Some of them bring out their savings right then, and we continue on to the garden where some of the other women are. The unfortunate thing, however, is that Hubert informed me just the night before that I had to go and meet with a guy at the mayor’s office about Pierre’s salary and my electricity. This guy is leaving in the afternoon, so we are really rushed and didn’t get to do anything like I planned. I wanted to give a little presentation, etc. But instead we just went around to each woman individually and asked if they had something they wanted to contribute at that moment. Then we rushed back to Kérou. We met with Florent, the guy in charge of financial things at the mayor’s office, who said he would send a check right over to the CLCAM, which is the closest thing to a bank that we have. Then he told me that he had never in his life heard about this thing that Hubert has worked out with my landlord for my electricity. And then I almost went to Natitangou, found Hubert, and strangled him. I hate how he just LIES SO MUCH and I really don’t know what’s actually going on with my life there, etc. Sigh. One day. One day I everything will work out for me.

Today I just did a bunch of house things, including going and getting water. Always such work! But as it has been raining the past few days, there were actually a lot less people at the pump, so it meant much less waiting. I was very happy about that! Did some cleaning, cooking, etc. Hung out with my neighbors. And so on. Not too busy of a day, it’s good to have those.

Monday, 15 April 2013

So I am currently in Porto-Novo for my second In-Service Training. These never seem too productive, but hopefully this one will be, as we have more choices in the sessions we go to, and thus will hopefully be more applicable and worthwhile.

The past week or so was pretty good as well. Maria and I hung out Thursday and had a nice homemade dinner together. I cook a lot here, but it’s never as much fun to cook for just myself. She brought some eggplant and avocados from Nati, so we made a sort of guacamole-ish thing (but without limes, because we couldn’t find those). Then we made stuffed eggplant in my dutch oven, which was incredible. Ground meet isn’t a thing here, but instead we used Soy Cheese. It’s basically like tofu, and a huge thing here. Traditionally the Peul, who mainly heard cattle make this cheese called Wagasi, which I hate. It’s made with some sort of bamboo-ish plant that makes the milk stick together, and I think it tastes like rubber. But a cheaper (and healthier!) version is with soy. I, personally, also think it tastes tons better. Although, most of the time it’s fried, so I don’t know if that takes away a lot from the health bonus. But we crumbled it up, and it made a nice substitute for the ground meet part. We were pretty impressed with ourselves, and spent the rest of the night just chilling, listening to music, drinking, and so on. We planned to go to this dance place that is right beside my house. It is supposed to be open on market days, but apparently not this day. Oh well.

Friday morning I went again to Ben Club, where everyone there just spent a lot of time yelling at each other. Of course, I didn’t actually know what was going on, and everyone was too busy yelling to translate for me. I guess I shall have to go around and get everyone’s side of the story later. I did go to one person’s shop afterwards; he is the one that has been appointed to fill out the new accounting booklet I have made for them. When I explained it thoroughly to him, he was actually really impressed, saying, “Wow, you really thought of everything!” I think, per usual, my ability really lies in the one-on-one times. Nobody seems to want to ask for my advice—or listen to it—in a big group, but when I have the chance to sit down and talk things out, I manage to do a lot better of a job communicating what I know and how I can help.

Sunday night was interesting. I had my meeting with the Masons, and Maria had offered to come and do a health training. She has a team called “Amour et Vie” (Love and Life), which is a Populations Services International (PSI) project that they do with Peace Corps. Essentially, each health volunteer picks two students in their local high school, who then went to a training. Then they go out into the community and teach people about different health issues. For the masons, they did a training on Sexually Transmitted Diseases. It was kind of awkward when they had this flip book which contains some up-close images of basically infected penises and vaginas. But the masons did participate, respond to questions, help demonstrate the proper way to put a condom on (using a wooden penis prop), and asked questions of their own. But still; awkwardness!

Monday we went again to Kérou-Wirou to meet with the gardening group. These things always take so long; but in the end we were able to collect the weekly cotisations, plus conclude that the notebook we’ve been keeping had the same amount that the treasurer was keeping as the group’s fund, so that was good! We were supposed to go to Gouignou, but Hubert calls and informs us that instead we have to come to the mayor’s office NOW so that we can meet with Florent and finally, officially get the money to pay Pierre’s second part of his salary. It was such a long ordeal, having to go and deposit the money in one account, then write out this long official paper saying how much we were taking out and why. Then, of course, we are not on time to do all of this, and the CLCAM has to close, so we have to wait until after lunch. There was also this ordeal that the amount written on the paper was wrong, so we had to re-write it.

Pierre started hypothesizing that Hubert actually wrote the wrong amount on purpose, so that he could just pocket the difference. I thought this was a little too conspiracy-theory. However, later Anna and I found out that some of women who are the leadership in the Gardening Group Union believe that Hubert has embezzled over $1,400. I don’t know how or why, but they were going to the Mayor herself that evening to talk to her about it.

I really don’t like Hubert. It’s amazing, he is such a smooth talker. When he talks to you, he makes you feel like you’re his best friend and that he is going to move mountains to get what you want. The problem is, however, that he is a pathological liar, and I hate liars. He is someone that if you asked him what color the sky is, he would tell you green, just because he can’t NOT lie. Anna said she has also heard that he once told women that received free wells from the mayor that they actually had to collect together $90, and then hypothetically pocketed the money. I have no way of knowing if this is actually true, but at this point, I could absolutely believe it. Unfortunately, I don’t actually speak the language, and so most of information comes from one source, Pierre. But I really doubt he would make things up, no matter how much he hates Pierre. Plus I really judge people by what others think of them. And even my neighbor used to work for Hubert mentioned to me how much of a liar he is, and how terrible of a person he is. If anyone who has ever worked intimately with him (at least in an inferior position) hates him, I’m pretty sure that makes him a bad person. Because you can ass-kiss your bosses and equals, but what makes you a decent human being is treating the people under you well. But the problem is at this point the mayor seems absolutely blind to his faults, plus he always acts like her little pet, running errands for her, etc. So I really doubt that she will take any serious action. Even though as a politician she should probably distance herself from a person accused of stealing money from some of the poorest people in this entire country (the gardening women).

On another note, I have learned that Kérou is actually where they send people as punishment. For example, one person working in Maria’s health center used to work in Nati, but stole mosquito nets and sold them on the DL. His punishment was not getting fired, not being sent to jail, but being sent to Kerou. And so now Anna and I have this theory, knowing that Hubert used to work at this really good job in a big city, Djougou. He always makes it sound like he moved back to Kerou to be with his family, but we kind of believe now that he was probably caught stealing, and was thus punished by being sent here.

It just makes me hope that I wasn’t sent here as punishment! Haha. But I keep telling myself that Peace Corps thought I could handle the hardship, and that’s why they gave me this assignment. Yeah, I’ll stick with that.

Anyway, Tuesday I went to Fetekou to do the savings thing again. This time we went later, and were less rushed. I was really excited, because I prepared this presentation for the women. I used the “accounting for illiterates” symbols, which are different colored squares & circles to represent each piece of money. Then I showed them how much they would have in total if they saved different amounts per week. I also showed them expenses that are incurred when taking out credit, such as the interest, the cost of taking a Zemi every month to the CLCAM, the cost of a late payment, etc. So I concluded by saying that I really recommend that they SAVE SAVE SAVE rather than planning to take out loans. But I tried to really emphasize that I am not telling them what to do exactly. I’m just giving them information, my recommendations, and they can make their own decisions based on their own personal needs. I hope it was useful to them.

I then spent a lot of time explaining the notebook that the NGO FAFA wants them to do. Honestly, this should have been a process that took multiple days/sessions/weeks, whatever, but because they gave it to us so far into the gardening season, and wanted us to start immediately, we had to cram it all in to one time. I’m not sure if two of the women actually got it (there are 3 total doing it), but we tried. This notebook is just for the women to make notes and help them remember, and we will come back every week to fill in a notebook that is actually literate. Their book will just have drawings/symbols, tallies, and Anna and I’s money system. So yeah. This will be an interesting experiment.

Friday I went to Ben Club and made them listen to me. I showed them the accounting book I set up, then I had a big poster where I explained basically their totals (for weekly savings, expenses, loans, etc), explained how they were running on a deficit, and so on. I hope they were disturbed by that fact, but we’ll have to see where we go from there. After that, I sat down again with the person who will be in charge of the accounting, and had him enter in all of the savings as people paid this week.

Luckily I was paying attention, because when one person came up, I saw that their numbers didn’t match up. When I questioned him, he told me that he had paid for something out of his own pocket for the group, so instead of Ben Club reimbursing him, they just counted four weeks of his savings paid. I sighed, and patiently explained that you can’t just do that, then showed the treasurer how to go through and enter his extra savings, then go to the expenses section, and enter the amount there as well. He says something in Bariba containing the French word for “accounting”, and I laughed because even though I can’t understand Bariba, I knew exactly what he was saying, which was “Wow, accounting is really complicated!”

After this I jumped in a ride, and headed to Nati, then to Porto, where I am now.

View from Hotel in Songhai

Friday, 3 May 2013

Okay, so not really much to report on. I had my Peace Corps training in Porto Novo. Pierre was there as my counterpart, and was really excited about everything. This time it was a little better because we got to choose more of our own activities. I also got out of one of my sector’s sessions to go and sit in with the sector talking about animal-raising, specifically chickens. I learned a little bit more; still trying to piece this together. I went to Cotonou the weekend after, for a little partying time (I had been in my post for almost 2 whole consecutive months). Of course, after bragging about my lengthy stay in post, I get sick again, so I ended up having to stay an extra week in Cotonou. But I think that is a record, getting out in only one week!!! Now I am in Nati, and trying to do some research on my chicken-raising project still. I went around looking at prices of supplies. Then I also went to talk to someone at the agricultural school here. They showed me their own chicken-raising operation, but I found that I will basically still have to get almost everything in Cotonou, such as the chicks, the feeders and water-holders, any pre-mixed feed, etc. But the one professor promised to write out a whole form detailing the space I should build for the chickens, the vaccinations, the exact feed ratios, etc. So I am really, really excited about that. Now I am just waiting for him to finish that, and doing some more research, then finally heading back to Kérou. 

Everything Galore

Friday, 15 March 2013

Today, as I dumped a bucket of water over my head—fully clothed—I made a promise to never, never, ever again complain about cold…water.

Haha, family, you thought I was going to say cold weather. No, I haven’t reached that point. But, if for the rest of my life, all that was available was cold water; that would be perfectly fine—if it started now. Oh, if I could just have cold water to drink at my house every day. if they water I just dumped on myself was actually cold… I really am at the point where I would take cold showers for the rest of my life, if only my fridge could start making ice RIGHT NOW.

On the other hand, this is the very first time in my life when I’ve actually liked showers. I’ve always complained that they take too much time (it’s such a process, especially if you have long hair!) I know plenty of people love it, but I don’t. I’m not going to lie, there have been many mornings that I have lain in bed, warm under the comforter, not wanting to get out and I start reasoning with myself, “well you know, I took a shower yesterday, and all I did was sit around at school…it’s fine. I’ll just take a shower when I get home.” But here, in Chaleur, as I toss and turn all night, I actually count down the hours until I can get up and take a glorious shower to wash off all the sweat that is covering my body.

I tried something the other day that I had used on my campers back when I was a Summer Camp Counselor. They were complaining about the heat, they couldn’t sleep, etc. So I told them to lie quietly. Then picture that they are at the edge of a great big lake filled with ice-cold water. They put their toe in, and their toe is now cold. They walk in, and now their feet are cold; their calves, their thighs, and so on. But this time, when I got to the stomach, I stopped. I remembered something vaguely from another life, that often times, it’s really shockingly cold when the water hits your stomach. A lot of people stay at that point for ages, not wanting to go on due to the unpleasant sensation. I realized, however, that I don’t actually remember what that feels like; for water to be so cold that I am hesitant for it to touch my body. I could imagine no such thing.

Maria had a dream the other day that she met Yayi Boni (the current president of Benin). He told her that he would giver her anything at all that she asked for. She asked for a bath. When she was retelling this dream the next day, she of course said this was stupid. She could ask for a helicopter to fly us out of Kérou, or at the very least paved roads. Or RUNNING WATER for the house, so she could take baths whenever she chose. But the funniest part about all this was that we were sitting with Pierre, and he is confused by the concept of a bath. He asks what it is. So we have to start explaining. “Well, in America we have SO MUCH water that just magically appears INSIDE our house [meaning no long treks to get it] that we have huge basins, big enough in which to fit our whole body, which we fill with water, and then wash our dirty selves in it, then let all the water go out like waste. This is of course, right next to the apparatus which—again because we have so much labor-free water—holds perfectly clean water, which we then shit in, and send all that magically away from our house as well.”

Okay, so that’s not actually how we explained it to Pierre. But as we were reflecting on it, those ideas both seemed absolutely absurd, after having experienced life here.

Then I feel kind of bad complaining about my lack of electricity, especially knowing the way so many people live here. It’s absurd, really, that I find it absolutely necessary to my survival to drink water that is cold, when some people are hard-pressed to find water at all. On the other hand, it is my firm belief that even if someone has it worse, you still have what you have. It’s still hard for you. Plus I might not mind as much, if I had gone into the whole situation not expecting electricity ever. But all I’m asking for enough power for a mini fridge and a lightbulb, plus my fan which—THANK GOD—still works. It’s been a continuous drama, and I am really, really tired of relating it all here and elsewhere. It’s so frustrating that it’s taken so long. Although I must say that its probably better than being in a house (like Anna) where the electric company keeps saying that they’re going to attach it, just wait a little longer. It’s been a year.

Okay, but I probably should stop talking about my little problems. Lets move onto Pierre, who has suffered a lot his entire life. Yet he never complains about it. It’s absolutely amazing. I really should try to be more like him.

We were talking about children and school the other day, and so Pierre told me this from his childhood. Apparently his father was the poorest man in his town. Pierre had to walk 2 km to school every day—without shoes and without a uniform because his family couldn’t afford those. Some days his father would give him 10 francs (about 2 cents) for lunch. During the break, he would hike all the way out to the fields to get lunch with the workers there. When he had to go to school in Kérou, he lived with a relative or something here, but would borrow a friend’s bike everyday to go the 8 km back to Kongourou, then further out to the fields to eat.

He truly amazes me that he at all made it through school to begin with, but how far he has come since then. Once he had some money, he built a house for his parents and adult brother, who had previously been sleeping in the same room somewhere. This meant that he has not been able to build the own house that he wants to in Kérou center. Pierre really grinds every day. He takes on whatever odd jobs he can. He somehow acquired the apparatus which grinds corn into flour, so he can charge people for that. He also has a (very old) camera, and uses it to take pictures of people at parties, kind of the same way couples take pictures on their way into prom. He has a garden, and also works in the field. He still finds time to help Anna and I, plus support his parents, plus brother who can’t seem to figure out how to grind as hard.

Anna and I finally managed to get him paid, although it was such an arduous process. Hubert had promised that Pierre would be paid in January, with a back-pay of 3 months (for October, November, and December). Of course, it is the beginning of March before we actually manage to sit Hubert down to get him to write out the paper needed to take the money out of the account. We are there on Thursday evening, so we calculate the 3 months, plus 40% of Pierre’s annual salary (His contract is set up so he gets paid 40% in January, 40% in June, and 20% in December). But by the time we finish, the bank has closed. So we come in the next morning and suddenly Hubert says, “Oh, we can’t pay him that amount. His contract is only for a year, so I can’t pay him the back pay.” Anna and I are of course enraged, but we manage to work out that it will be as though the contract started in October. So Pierre will get paid 40% now (for “October”), then another 40% at the end of this month (for “June”). So it seems to kind of be working out, although I do know that the exact same problem will occur next year. Or really anytime we try to take money from Hubert’s grummy little hands.

Then, about a week ago, a lady from the Brignimaro gardening group, A GROUP WHICH PIERRE AND ANNA HELP OUT A LOT, come to Hubert and tells him that he must fire Pierre. Why? Because he happens to have an uncle who is running for mayor. Thus, it is obvious that Pierre will vote against the CURRENT mayor, who gives the gardening groups a lot of gifts (and who Hubert pretends was the person that actually got Berekoussou—another village—their well, when it was actually Anna, Peace Corps, and USAID).

And that was the moment I almost lost hope for this country to ever, ever progress. It’s so enraging to think that someone who does a absolutely wonderful, fabulous job, and who helps volunteers WHO CAME TO YOUR STUPID COUNTRY TO HELP YOU, should be punished just because he happens to be related to a politician, who might replace the mayor that you support because she gives you presents. I wanted to slap that woman. But she is just a representation for a lot of the political culture that exists here. It’s all about gifts and allegiance, with a lot of corruption.

But Pierre hasn’t been fired (yet). Anna and I are still crossing our fingers that he gets the second part of his pay. We’ll see how it works out.

Bu in case you were wondering, my birthday yesterday was quite fabulous. I had a relaxing morning: made myself some starbucks coffee, sat around and took my time drinking it; perused the internet; and so on. For lunch, I met with Maria, who was actually a good sport. She was feeling ill but had to journey that day, yet she still made sure I got to celebrate my birthday lunch. After that, I went by Amina’s house (that is the hairdresser). I had to drop of Maria’s key so that her neighbors could feed her cat, and Amina lives close by.

Amina continues to convince me that she is the coolest person in this country. Her mom is pretty great too. Her mom was mostly educated by French and American nuns, so she really knows a lot about American history, and so on. Plus Amina herself is well-read, so we can have really deep conversations. It was interesting, someone there asked me what my native language was, and I said English. They were like, no, no, before that, what is your first language? I explained that it was English; because, see, in America, instead of letting the native inhabitants live (like in Africa), we actually slaughtered almost all of them, and then pushed the rest to terrible pieces of land. Amina thoughtfully said, “It kind of sounds like what people do with the Peul here.” (She is Peul). The Peul are herders that exist actually all across West Africa (my Senegalese host brother was actually part Peul). Here in Benin, they tend to be viewed as outsiders and might even suffer persecution. Just across the border, in Northern Togo, there are actually refugee camps for Peul who have had their houses/villages burned by local Togolese. I’ve never personally seen it, but Anna says when Peul come into her village, they will have to endure shouting and the like. The government tends to push them off their lands. In Fétékou, the gardening group wants a new parcel for their garden; land currently farmed by Peul during the wet season, but Hubert claims they have no actual right to the land. It kind of seems like 1800-talk to me, though. Just because the Peul didn’t think to get a written document as they wander across the continent in search of grazing land, occasionally settling in villages, maybe even farming.

We entertained plenty of other topics regarding American and Beninese history, we talked even about how people in France/America are allowed to wear—*gasp*—bikinis. We talked about fishing, which apparently Amina has actually done. Her brother married a French woman, who likes to take a weekend to go fishing in one of the lakes in the south of Benin. I really have no idea how Amina is here, in Kérou; she is so worldly! But I am really glad she is.

Anyway, after just chilling at her house, and talking, she said that we needed to go to the bar, so we headed there. She picked up a friend of hers who has a buvette actually close to Amina’s house. Her friend is about 27 (Amina is mid-30s). Both of them drank with me, and we ordered a dinner of abloo, which is kind of like a moist white-corn-bread in cupcake shapes.

After that I took my bike home. I had no intention of being out so late, so I didn’t bring the flashlight-thing that I use as a headlamp. All I had was the flashlight on my phone, which wasn’t very bright. That + Alcohol à Shannon falling over on her bike. I wasn’t actually hurt; just my pride a little. Actually, me falling over has happened a little too frequently. But what am I to do? The roads leading to my house are all dirt; they are not lit; they have holes everywhere. Even when I do have my headlamp-thing, provided to me by Peace Corps, it doesn’t really show that far ahead, meaning I have to already know the route really well. Then the side lighting is negligible, so I am constantly swerving my tires back and forth to see if I can glimpse where I can turn. Then when I do find the turn, I have to swerve into it, hoping I’ve remembered if there are ditches there. So it’s always all kinds of perilous.

I would also like to say THANK YOU to everyone who wished me a Happy Birthday. I got tons of emails, all which made me smile! And I'm sure there are cards waiting for me at the Natitangou workstation when I go there, which will make me feel like it's my special day all over again.

Sunday, 17 March 2013

As much as I love my two post-mates, Anna and Maria (Thomas has left us for medical reasons, and gone home to France), I must admit that I enjoyed this past weekend without them here. I really resent Peace Corps; I never wanted to live with Americans. Yet they put me with 3 other volunteers. But this past weekend was a Peace Corps-wide event. I could have gone, but have decided to treat this time as though it were my “integration period” meaning no leaving post. I was supposed to do that originally, but a certain moto accident stopped that. This weekend was nice, however. Anna left Wednesday, then Maria Thursday afternoon. As I mentioned before, I had dinner and drinks with Amina. Then Friday, I went to the Ben Club meeting.

I’ve mentioned before wanting to get the accounting done by Ben Club to be a lot more in shape. So far, however, there hasn’t been much interest. However, recently, some books containing information on the savings by members was lost, so now the need for a better system has come up. This is where I come in. I was like, “Well, I’ve been trying to do this for a while now…” So it has been planned that next Friday I will get together with all the individuals responsible for secretarial/treasurer things, and we will figure this all out. I am really happy!

I spent the rest of Friday being too sick to leave my house (okay, a not-so-good part of my weekend), so I just worked on preparing the book we will use for accounting. Then there was also a presentation on Feasibility Study I am doing with the group I am working with at Kongourou for the possible chicken-raising project.

Saturday I mostly just stayed in my house and recovered. Then Saturday I met with Edouard (Ben Club) who was delighted with the progress I had made with the accounting book.

Sunday, I got up early and rode my bike to Kongourou, which is 8 km south of Kérou, 1 km before Brignimaro, where Anna lives. I feel like I really should have been prepared for this, what with all the biking my family and I did when I was young. Or that I rode my bike to class all the time in Charleston and Oklahoma. But in all of those cases, my terrain was always flat. Ironically, Oklahoma was actually the place with the most hills. In Maryland, we always rode along the C&O Canal, then of course the actual city of Charleston is flat, having been built on a former swamp in between two rivers. Here, though, of course it is the hot season, and the 8 short kilometers had a slight incline for the majority of the trip there, which almost killed me (although, happily, my hotter time on the way back was much easier!) When I got back to Kéro-Wirou, which is Maria’s neighborhood, slightly south of Kérou I stopped at a buvette there which had cold water and ice, and drank so much cold water and it just felt so good! I felt really good about it all though. It felt nice to get out of Kérou, and the ride wasn’t that bad really (though my leg muscles would beg to differ).

Plus, at Kongourou, I felt pretty good about the session I had. We are just discussing the chicken-raising, but I am trying to push the group there to think about all the expenses, and so on. I really want this to be something that they work for. Unfortunately, though, I feel like we are really flying blind. I wrote down issues that came up, and this week I have to go and talk to people—such as a mason I know about how much cement we will actually need to build the structure we want. It’s coming along though.

Saturday, 23 March 2013

So this week I feel like I’ve managed to pack in a lot, although all that really means is that I had something to do each day for maybe an hour or two. But, you know, Peace Corps life.

Monday we met with the gardening group at Kérou-Wirou, and Maria came along, so she could offer health trainings for the women, if they wanted it. The two of us arrived on time, but of course the meeting didn’t start until a hour later. We didn’t even collect the weekly fees, because there was a problem in the group. Apparently they had paid someone to make the rows in the garden, but he didn’t finish them all in a timely manner, so some women had to do it themselves. So they were angry that their collective money had not helped them personally. They complained about it for a while, then we just so happened to see this man across the street. Pierre called him over, and sat him down, then we talked about this issue. Anna and I proposed that he return the money for the work he had not actually done. He immediately agreed. We were kind of shocked by this, because we thought this would turn into a whole big deal. But then it turned out that the President of the gardening group did not want him to return the money, which made absolutely no sense. She claimed that this would ruin relations with this man, and he would never help them again. But he was sitting right there, saying it was perfectly fine! Apparently there were also some sort of hidden politics which Anna and I were not aware, as well. But ultimately, Pierre just told the President that the two white girls were adamant that the man be allowed to return the money, and being outvoted by her own group as well, she agreed. But what a bizarre situation!

Hubert claims that she and her husband sometimes try to run games with money. For example, if they are feeding someone who is working for the gardening group, they will say that it cost them an outrageous amount of money, and take that from the collection. So I don’t know if there was some sort of scheme involved, or if she was just mad that things had worked out against her direction. Who knows?

That afternoon I brought Anna to meet the guys who have a garden in an area that is a swamp during wet season. I think I have mentioned them before. Hubert introduced me a while ago. They are very fun to go and talk to, and have been educating me about gardening. However, they mentioned having insect problems, but being reluctant to use chemicals, because many people here don’t properly wash their vegetables. I thought of Anna’s training in making insecticide from Neem trees, which are common here. So it would be natural. They seemed very excited about this idea!

Three brothers with their garden!

Tuesday morning I went to Pikiré, which is a town southeast of Kérou. Hubert had told me to go, even though I don’t currently work with this group (and can’t because it isn’t in Pierre’s gas budget to work with them.) I was supposed to meet him early that morning, but as I got there, he comes out of the mayor’s house and says he must go immediately to Natitangou, to drop off a check so that the mayor’s office can have money for their operations the following month, or something like that. These are the things that blow my mind. Like, why didn’t anyone think of this before? There are plenty of people that journey from Kérou to Nati every week, why couldn’t anyone just think, ‘oh, since so-and-so is going now, he should take the check’? But no, it’s left to the last minute, ‘oh Hubert, you must drop everything and go to Nati THIS moment. Hubert annoys me, but I also feel like he’s just treated like the mayor’s errand boy, and must drop everything whenever she asks. On the other hand, I also feel like this makes him feel important. So maybe it works out.

So anyway, Hubert can’t take me, but he introduces me to this other guy, Adam, who explained—I think—that he used to work for an NGO, but the contract is finished, so he’s just kind of fishing around for work? I don’t know what that means, but I’ll go with it. Anyway, we went to Pikiré, and when we get there, he says, “So, what are you going to talk about?” I just give him a blank stare. Hubert never informed me of why I am going to Pikiré, etc. Or that I should prepare anything (and I really don’t have anything to talk about. Like I mentioned, I don’t actually work with this group). But apparently at Pikiré Adam’s only program was to inform the groupement that we would be returning Friday. Then we continued on to a village further along, called Yananu.

After we arrived, and while we were waiting for everyone to gather, I asked Adam about exactly what he does. He said that he gives advice to groupements. The example he gave was that a lot of women don’t have watering cans. They just take these basins that they carry on their head, then when they get to their plants, they put the basins at waist level, then scoop one hand in, and kind of fling the water out like a very inefficient sprinkler. So Adam says that he tells the women they need to buy watering cans, so their gardening will be more efficient. I am just sitting there, staring at him, like “Are you joking? Like the women don’t KNOW they need watering cans. I’m pretty sure they are well aware of that. They would love to have watering cans. Hell, they would love to have a full-blown irrigation system. I’m pretty sure what’s stopping them is the lack of funds, not the lack of awareness.” So I asked him if he had any programs to help the women get watering cans, whether at reduced prices, or at least help them save for it. He replies no, he just gives advice. And some people—he points out—follow his advice, and their gardens improve. But other people don’t listen to him, and that’s why they don’t do better.

So, officially, I think Adam is the worst development worker I have met so far. I cannot understand his philosophy, or how he thinks he’s helping people. The reality often is that people know the agricultural part. They have done it their entire life. Maybe they just don’t know how to organize to get better products, and also to come together and share ideas, etc. For example, if one person figures a better way to grow something, they should be able to teach others. Development work should be giving the people the tools to change their own lives. Not saying, “You need to buy a watering can.” But instead asking, “How do you think you can get that watering can? Let’s figure out a program to get you there.”

Also, Adam rambles on. I think actually, I present the same flaws, that I take way to long to explain things. But I’ve been trying when speaking in front of these groups to cut it down, short and simple, straight to the point. But Adam probably talked for an hour, and I could definitely see the women phasing out. And amusingly, in the end they didn’t care about really anything that he said, but when they heard that I worked with microfinance things, they suddenly wanted to talk about how there was this project that came in and had started a small savings group. But then the person stopped coming, and the money is just sitting in a box in the town, and no one knows what to do with it. We talked about this for quite some time. Finally Adam and I were able to figure out the organization’s name, and promised to inquire about it. I later asked Hubert, who talked to the point person of this organization in Kérou. She said that she had tried for many weeks in a row to go, but the women always said they were busy, they couldn’t meet up, and that’s why she stopped coming. Just a typical experience. But Hubert has communicated to her that the women are now eager to try again, so I think she’s going to start going back.

I went back to Pikiré on Friday, this time again with Adam and Hubert as well. We went to the actual gardening site, where the women have not even started gardening! It is so late in the season. Apparently they have been held back because they were promised screening for a fence from the mayor’s office, but have yet to receive it. Also, there were fights over land distribution. For example, there is one man in the gardening group who has decided that having a penis entitles him to a larger share of the gardening site. When the women refused to give this to him, he chooses the row at the very end of the site. Then, in blatant disregard to the huge territory marker that is standing RIGHT THERE, he digs another row for himself outside of the gardening group’s site. It looks so ridiculous, since you can obviously see it’s not in bounds. Plus, the women point out that technically that marker shows where wet-season creek will come up to, so if they encompass his extra row with the fence, the fence will then get swept away when there is water.

So the gardening group has decided to kick him out, and Hubert supports them in this decision. But then they also had to go through and assign a row to each woman, which seems like a wholly unnecessary process. Can’t they just figure it out themselves. But then Adam wanted me to take a picture of him with the women so he could send a report. And my respect diminished for him even further, like “What are you going to write? I wrote women’s names beside a number for their gardening row???”

Women in Pikiré; one carrying firewood on her head

 I didn’t do much Wednesday; then Thursday I went to Fétékou. I would just like to say that their garden is absolutely incredible. I explained a while ago that their garden site is actually a lake during the wet season. I'd never gotten to see it before in full garden mode, but it was so cool. Obviously, the lake bottom is very uneven, so the garden goes up and down a lot, which amplifies the green effect.

The garden at Fétékou with some of the water still there at the deepest parts

A woman carrying water to her plot of the garden

Women harvesting the okra/gombo that is ready.

Anyway, this time it was with Hubert, plus Adam, as well as Salimatou, the women who works with Improved Cookstoves (these economize the amount of wood or charcoal used, are safer, etc. It is also what I bought a while ago for myself). Salimatou gave a presentation on these, complete with illustrated pictures to show the downfalls of traditional ways of cooking, and the awesomeness of the Improved Cookstoves.

When I presented myself, and started talking about wanting to help them organize weekly collections of money for the group, I was met with an onslaught of greif. Apparently the women have gathered money together twice before—once with a former volunteer. However, this volunteer never returned, so the money was just let sitting at the President’s house. And eventually it was spent, and thus the women’s money evaporated. Many women accuse various groupement members of “stealing”. This might be true, or the woman may have spent the money in good faith, thinking it was going to aid the whole gardening group. However, I doubt she ever consulted the rest of the group to come to a communal decision/approval. I mentioned trying to get a system set where the women could do it themselves. This is what I have been trying at other groupements, but I’m not sure I have the most confidence in it. The women don’t seem ready to jump on this record-keeping, plus thanks to Hubert’s restrictions, we can only go to these groups once every 3 weeks, which is pretty much as productive as never going at all.

Some older man spoke up, and I think essentially told the woman to stop attacking me (the white person). Did the white people steal from you??? NO!!!! It was amongst yourselves that the money was stolen/gone. I think he was trying to get them to think of the real culprits. But on the other hand, though the former volunteer (and whoever the other person was that encouraged them to collect money together) didn’t actually steal the money, they also gave them no tools to actually be able to decide on where to spend the money, or redistribute it at an appropriate time.

When we got back to Kérou, I discussed with Hubert what we should do with this situation. I suggested maybe getting a nice metal box with 3 locks that some programs in Benin use. This way the money can only be opened when the 3 chosen trustworthy women come together. Then have some sort of accounting-for-illiterates notebook to record every savings for each woman.

Hubert counters that someone could just pick up the box and run away. (Although honestly if they do, it’s not like they could ever get it open, short of throwing it off a mountain. Those things are strong!) He has been talking to the manager of the CLCAM (a national Savings & Loan Cooperative with a branch in Kérou), about encouraging a group of gardeners to start saving there. He is thinking about doing that with this group; Pierre and I could carry the money to the bank. So that is something we will work on.

Friday I had the Ben Club meeting, which was fine, except no one seems to understand what I’m doing. I don’t know how to say any clearer “I NEED EVERY TRANSACTION, I.E. EVERY LOAN GIVEN OUT, REPAID, EVERY EXPENSE, AND SO ON.” They just give me the books that record when every member gives their weekly dues/savings, and expect that to work. So I total it up, then look at the cash they have and tell them they are missing money. They start saying, “Oh no, what has happened to it?” etc. Finally, little by little I pry it out of them. “Oh yeah, remember how we gave $20 to that one guy when his dad died? But we will repay that when every gives $1 towards it.” (Although how $1 times 16 members equals $20 is beyond me). Then, “Oh yeah, remember how we gave out that loan to so-and-so?” Finally, we found (most of) the money, at least for this year. Now I have to go back and calculate the totals for the previous year, and I’m sure I’m going to run into a lot of the same problems. We’ll see how it goes.

Friday, 29 March 2013

And thus my projects have been amplified tremendously, and I haven’t decided if this were in a good or bad way.

Okay, Sunday, I went to the Mechanic’s meeting, who have finally started up again, and elected new leadership. I have promised to help them with by-laws and accounting, so that is par for the course.

Monday, I biked to Kongorou, and met with the potential chicken-raising group. Only one person showed up, which was sad. However, over the past week I had spent so much time drawing these elaborate to-scale models of possible chicken coops. I had spent a lot of time with a mason as well, calculating the ciment and bricks, screen, roofing, and so on. So damnit, I was going to share it with somebody. Also, hopefully the people who were there will talk to the others and say, “this girl really got her stuff together; you need to come next time!” Okay, but again, it was still normal. We talked about choosing between having 100 or 200 chickens, etc. Then I spent a lovely afternoon visiting Anna in her town, which is just south of Kongourou.

Action shot of me presenting to the Kongorou Group

Then Tuesday was when it all exploded out of control. Hubert informs me that I’m not going to have the gardening group open an account at the CLCAM, but in fact have every woman open her own individual account, so that next year they can get gobs of credit, or something like that. He also tells me that to open an account, each woman needs to pay $10, which I think is absolutely absurd, since we were only talking of trying to have them save a total of $24 in the first place. So I march right over to the CLCAM with Pierre, who is friends apparently with the manager. We sit down, and the manager explains that in fact, the $10 is what the women have to pay to buy a “share” of the co-op and then the minimum deposit. All that money is still their’s; they just can’t take it out until they close their account. On the other hand, there is a monthly fee for every account, which is 40 cents. That adds up to $4.80 per year. It’s still a lot to ask of women with minimal savings. But at least this sounds slightly more reasonable.

After this I meet with a vetrinarian about my possible chicken-raising project. We talk of where I can get chickens, chicken feed, and vaccinations. I inform him I’m looking at starting with 100-200 chickens. “That is not enough!” he proclaims, then explains to me that vaccinations come in quantities of 1,000, so in order to not have a loss, you must have at least 500 chickens. Oh, and also, since there would always be a 6 month period between getting chickens and when they start laying eggs, I need to have multiple rotations of chickens (obviously at 500 chickens each round). This would mean eventually having between 1200 and 1500 chickens at once. HOW DID MY 100 CHICKENS BECOME 1500????? I have no idea! I tried to get him to slow down with this, but he keeps rolling along. This would also mean that the housing unit would have to be somewhere in the vicinity of 20 feet wide and the length of half a football field. How did this happen?

In reflection, thinking about it, and asking around the current vendors of chicken eggs, there would actually be a market for the eggs, even in Kérou alone. It would be really awesome to see the prices of eggs drop dramatically, have them always available, and of course, get a (HUGE) income increase for the partners on this project. I’m just a little worried that it’s too much. And something that huge can also fail huge. But also Pierre was with me when I was talking with the Vetrinarian. Later, while we were at Fétékou--which had the original dry-season garden in Kérou country--we were watching people come from all over just to get their vegetables. Pierre comments, "You know, if everyone starts to know that it is Kongorou that you can get eggs, they will come and we will not even be able to produce enough to suffice!"

So anyway, I’ll have to think about what to do with that. Something like this would take on a lot more work and organization, but I’m sure that’s something I’d be good at. I also don’t know the other people in the group, except for Pierre, and given how they’re not really showing up to meetings at the moment…

I just don’t know what to do about this.

In other news, I went to Fétékou on Wednesday to tell them about this new, elaborate plan with them. The manager of the CLCAM came along with me and Pierre, so he was the one that really sold the idea. The women asked about the fees, and so on. He pointed out that the fees were for the security of their money. I mean, they’d already lost a lot of money point-blank in their previous attempts at saving. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to put money aside, pay a little bit, but know it would be available when they needed it?

Many of the women seem very excited about the idea. And in fact, I remember the very first time I ever visited Fétékou, they asked me how I could help them get loans. I guess this is it. Although I do have my reservations for getting these women hooked up to the world of credit. Even in the States, so many people don’t know how to do it right. Here you have the added problem of things like the women not even knowing how to write numbers, let along budget, etc. Plus there are cultural problems. The manager of the CLCAM gave the example of one woman who has gathered her money to go to the bank for her monthly payment. But then her husband barges in, and demands that she give the money to HIM instead, to spend it on who knows what. Thus she doesn’t make her payment, and is penalized.

Considering other options, though, I really think this is good. The women can deposit money safely. Plus, it means that they won’t be asked to give their savings away. If it is in the CLCAM, and their husband comes and demands it, she can just use the excuse that it’s not there. She would have to hire a moto to go all the way to Kérou, (and back) to take the money out. So it keeps the money a lot better.

I think if I’m going to help them do this, I am going to start each session with some sort informative lesson on money management, business strategies, or how to be careful with credit. Hopefully that will make even more of an impact.

So anyway, there you have it: you’re here trying to make a tiny difference, and all of the sudden a huge undertaking is demanded of you. Stay tuned for how I actually work this all out: whether I stay small, go huge and awesome or epically fail.

Thursday was my day off, which certainly didn’t mean relaxing. I went and got my weekly water. It actually worked out, timing-wise because it had rained the past few days (very weird for this time of the year), which meant that many women had water available from what they’d collected during the storms, or from their previously dried-up wells. Therefore, I didn’t not have a long wait (or sometimes any wait at all) each time I brought my container to fill up. Before, I might have to wait 20 or 30 minutes each time. I also did some washing and house cleaning, plus paperwork-ish things. Furthermore, my skin has decided it does not like this heat at all, and has developed a heat rash. I tried to ease this by sponging off my body occasionally, and by Friday it was looking better.

Heat rash on my chest

Friday was Ben Club again. It’s really very frustrating to go to all these meetings and not be able to understand anything. I ask people, and they don’t give me very good translations. Or this day, I was sitting beside a guy and asked him for a translation. He replies, “I can’t right now, I want to follow this conversation and not miss a thing.” Not 30 seconds later, his cell phone rings, so he leaves the meeting to go answer it. I hate cell phones and people’s relationship to them.

Anyway, I found out later that they were discussing whether Ben Club had a gain or loss. Which if someone HAD BOTHERED TO ASK THE GIRL THEY KNOW WAS PREPARING AN ACCOUNTING LEDGER FOR THEM, they could have found out right then and there. But no, why would they ask a silly woman a question about their group, or her thoughts/calculations on a matter? Then I also found out that one member wants the Secretary to add up the interest that Every. Single. Person. has paid over the past 3 years, so that it can be redistributed. He seems to be under the impression that when you pay interest on a loan, that money is actually ultimately for you. When I found that out, I just like, “OH HECK NO! That is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!” But of course, this was long after the meeting before anyone bothered to explain it to me, so I was unable to set him straight right then and there. Next week I really want to make the effort to force people to stop and translate for me, and also help them understand. The main problem—or rather I should say the entire problem—of Ben Club is that it has no governing system. Meaning that people do whatever they decide by vote. These votes take place whenever a problem arrises. They don’t have set rules to follow. Then this is complicated by people maybe not exactly understanding how a Village Savings and Loan Association works, other than they pay money every week and can take loans. The rest of it seems to be a mystery. So they make decisions that are hazardous to the association. Such as paying out over $100 to the leadership, such as the president, secretary, treasurer, etc. No where in VSLA is this allowed for, yet they did it. And now, even were all the loans repaid, there would not be enough cash to give everyone back their money. This is a huge problem. This is compounded by the fact that there is not an overriding accounting system, just one guy with a notebook, and no accounting experience ever, except when beginning this group. I really want to help them, but as of yet, all of these artisan groups seem ultimately uneager to take my advice or aid. I will give it, and show them the raw numbers that I have deduced, plus the tools (aka accounting book) that I have concocted to help them move forward from here. I hope that by showing them that their money is not all there, they will be shocked enough to want to change, but not disheartened enough that they want to essentially do a run on the bank with this association. Because that would not end well. But ultimately they have to LET me help them with this in order for it to work.

Saturday, 30 March 2013

Today was an event to celebrate International Women’s Day (I know, technically it was 22 days ago, but hey, that’s Africa for ya. I didn’t really do much for it, because it was all just presentations in Bariba. Anna and I, however, went, wore dresses made of matching celebratory material, sat just beside the meeting hall and had a drink during the event, then came and danced for everyone when they started playing music (people stood up on chairs to watch the white girls dance, and of course I was mortified the whole time, but did it anyway), then we ate some food, and that was done. We did get some nice pictures, though, so here you go (YOU'RE WELCOME, GRANDMOTHERS. I KNOW THIS WILL MAKE YOU UBER-HAPPY :) :

Pierre, Anna, Me, and Salimatou (the women who works with Improved Cookstoves)

Anna, Hubert and I

Additionally, if you're interested, I have my furniture, and have been entertaining myself by painting a little color on. Here it is:

My bookcase beside the mattress I've turned into a sofa

My kitchen/work table & stools