Today is a Good Day

Lest you think that life in the Peace Corps is one big frustrating, hot, bug-filled waste of two years (in dark moments, I sometimes think this), I share with you today’s (well, Friday's)awesome story of success.

The local artists (think hand carved wooden statues, beaded necklaces, and batiks) are in the process of forming an association. They were struggling a bit with getting started, so I offered to step in to facilitate meetings. Last week, we talked about what a good association looked like and what the qualities and responsibilities of the association’s leaders should be. I was pretty pleased with how it went, especially when they asked me afterwards to continue in my role as facilitator for the next meeting, where they would elect their officers.

The Ministry of Artisanal Crafts, Tourism, and Culture has a complicated, decentralized structure with representatives at the village, commune, department, and national level, covering all the different métiers covered under “artisinat.” I’m not entirely sure how to translate “artisinat” but really, it just means anything made by hand – from cheese to furniture to clothing to salt. Each métier has an association and then each association sends representatives to the commune level, which sends reps to the department, etc. I don’t quite get all the different pieces of it, so I invited a very cool old lady to come in and break it down for us. She is a couturier by profession, is the former president of the artisans collective at the commune level, and was just elected as an advisor at the department level.

I was nervous – I invited her this morning, without consulting the guys in the group. I wasn’t even sure she was going to show up. She’s a talker, and can be hard to reign in once she gets going. And, I didn’t entirely know what she was going to say. Once she had the floor though, she was incredible. She had such as command of the room and an incredible gift for storytelling. She ended up talking for over an hour (which I hadn’t quite predicted) but in the end it was clearly worth it. The newly elected officers took the membership (there were a grand total of 7 people at the meeting, including the officers) to a back room and conferred. A few minutes later, they came back and bashfully offered up a 2000 CFA bill, to cover “transport and to buy a soda.” We promptly donated it back to the association. But it was so cool that they felt like they got that much out of the meeting that they wanted to pay us back some how.

As if that weren’t crowning achievement enough, Madame then gave a little closing statement, entirely in local language. She turned to me and said, in Mina, “And now we should also thank Big Sister Elizabeth for getting us together.” And I understood! Not just the gist of what she was saying, but actually the entire sentence – the vocabulary, sentence structure, everything. When I responded, “You’re welcome” in Mina, they burst into applause. Not to toot my own horn or anything (my Mina is pretty awful usually) but I was really freaking proud of myself at that moment.

There’s still a long way to go before I can say that the Association is a success – for all I know, people lose interest next week and the whole thing folds. But, in any case, I did a good thing at this meeting and I’m pretty jazzed about it. So jazzed in fact, that I baked a chocolate banana cake, which I am now going to eat. (And I wonder why I’m gaining weight here…). So, TTFN in the words of Tigger (or Pooh? Ugh, can’t keep my Milne characters straight).

Tu es là? Oui, je suis là.

Sorry for the long delay. Now that I’ve been in Benin over six months (holy crap, how did that happen?) things seem more normal and so I don’t always know what to write about. Recently, I’ve been having some work setbacks, based on the fact that there is NO COMMUNICATION between anyone, anywhere. For example, my English club was ready to go (you will remember that I blogged about this months ago), and two days before it’s supposed to start, when 350 students had been informed of this start, I found out about a bureaucratic hurdle I hadn’t cleared and I had to cancel the first meeting. Nevermind that my coworkers had heard me talk about the club since October…you would think that at least once in the intervening months they would think to mention these kinds of things. But, have no fear, the students of Grand Popo will have all the English they can stand starting this Wednesday.

Those random kids with me are Ado and Grido, the kids of my counterpart. They are actually really sweet kids who seem to genuinely like me, but they are pulling Beninese picture taking faces so they look like they've never heard the word "fun" in their lives.

Meanwhile, Yovo puppy continues to grow at an alarming rate. She must be at least 3 times as big as when I got her. Her favorite activities include chewing things up and jumping on my face when I’m trying to sleep. She also dabbles in tracking dirt throughout my house and not listening to me when I tell her not to strew my underwear around the house. Unfortunately, she is so very cute and has a tendency to curl up on my feet when she’s tired. So I guess I can’t get rid of her.

Hmm…in other news I’m planning my trip to Burkina Faso for FESPACO (first week in March), the largest film festival in West Africa. Apparently, Ouagadougou is the film capital of West Africa (who knew?) and the Burkinabe love movies. It’s supposed to be a pretty big deal. Right now, the plan is to take an overnight bus from Cotonou to Ouaga, which is supposed to take about 20 hours. I suspect it will be a memorable voyage. I have heard rumours that the trip can take as long as 35 hours, what with breakdowns etc. There better be some damn good cinema at the other end of that ride.

On a sadder note, my Finnish intern friend is leaving, which is a bummer since we have become good friends (and he’s my dogsitter). However, we’ve had several days of awesome (and inventive) food as a result, including last night’s creation: pineapple-mango-coconut curry with couscous and mashed sweet potatoes. Delicious. But, Jaakko, you will be missed in the ‘Po.

On the docket today: calling Finland for a local artist; getting the key to the American Corner library (where we will be holding the club); drumming up interest for a training on forming a good association among local artisans; and talking with the condescending Chamber of Commerce rep about the Tourism Information Center. While that doesn’t seem like it could occupy a full 8 hours, I am doubtful I will even get to it all today. But, on that note, I should at least get started.

P.S. The title of this post is a reference to the extremely obvious questions that make up about 90% of my interactions. It's rude to walk by someone without saying something, but often there isn't anything to say. So instead; you can just ask something to the effect of "are you there?' and the person responds "yes, i'm here". You could also just ask them a question based on what they're doing. For example: "are you typing?" "yes i'm typing." "are you riding your bicycle?" "yes i'm riding my bicycle". It used to annoy me until I realized that I never had to struggle to make conversation again.

Merry Christmas!

Me and my new puppy, Yovo, wish you all a very merry christmas. It was a quiet affair here, filled with a very boring church service in Mina, Annie's Mac & Cheese, and an unexpectedly depressing bollywood film. Oh, and glug and cookies with the Finns. All in all, not half bad.

Though, if you tried to call and couldn't get through, blame the fog that apparently screws with the cell networks this time every year, making my phone think it's in Togo. Hopefully it will all be better soon.

more photos

Hey gang - I just posted some pics to facebook. Really, facbook should allow me to create a feed to blogger but they don't seem to (does anyone else know how I could make that work?). In the ;eantime, here's a preview for you to entice you to check out the pics next time you're on facebook.

That's me dancing in Togo and the sunset in grand popo, at the beach across the street from my house.

Togo or not Togo

Yesterday, I went to Togo for the first time. It literally is over the river and through the woods (or rather, palm trees). It’s actually pretty cool – we went down this little path I have always seen but didn’t know where it led, and suddenly there was a tiny river, maybe 20 feet wide, and a little boat ferrying people back and forth. I maintain that it couldn’t be that deep and you could probably walk across, but I did not take up my friend’s challenge to try it.

We went to Agba Na Ke, which is where the king lives. Though he’s in Togo, he is the monarch for the people of Grand Popo. GP is a weird little inlet on the map into Togolese territory, and it was only at independence that it was really considered part of Benin. So, as is the story with so many former colonies, the Xwla and Xweda people were divided between two countries, though the language, culture, and religion are the same and they are separated by 20 feet of water. There are some who now dispute the monarch’s authority in Benin, but most people acknowledge that Agba Na Ke is an important site in the history of the people of this area.

In any case, we did not go to see the king. Instead, we went to what I thought was a funeral, but might just have been a party. It was very cool – It can be hard for me to access “traditional” Beninese culture in Grand Popo because there are so many tourists and so people either assume they know what foreigners want to see or they just ignore my presence. Plus my house is situated in a pretty barren stretch of land – mostly hotels and overpriced restaurants directly around me. Anyway, it was cool to be able to experience a little bit of the fete culture of Togo. For example, when we arrived, they poured a little bit of alcohol on our feet to welcome us from our voyage. Hosts always offer water, so we took a sip of that. Then it was time for a shot of gin (at least it wasn’t sodabe). And finally, a plate of food (nevermind that it was only an hour or so after lunch).

Then, someone brought out a small statuette and I got excited – maybe I was going to see a real live voodoo ceremony! He then brought out baby powder and sprinkled it in what looked like a very ceremonial and occult fashion. Then, he very seriously placed the statue in a bucket and a towel over the blanket. The ceremony began…and ended with him miraculously pulling candy out of the statue. What I had taken to be a ceremony imbued with meaning was in fact a magic show. He proceeded to do tricks making money appear and disappear. He did a really gross trick in which I had to spit on my hand and then he made the spit move to the other side of my hand. I just hope that it was my spit that we were working with the whole time (I think saliva is gross…this was not my favorite trick). It was almost comical because he took himself incredibly seriously – one would think that David Blaine himself was there. In the end, he finished up and left and we all danced (including me – shocking, no?). Americans automatically look dumb dancing to traditional music. No two ways about it. But it’s a great source of entertainment to others so I swallowed my pride and flapped my arms with the rest of the women.

And that is the story of my afternoon in Togo. Borders are still strange to me because as Americans, we think of borders as things that are really far away and/or sites of heavy-handed state control and/or places of illegal activity. But borders can really be little strips of river that people don’t really pay attention to (except for the time change between here and Togo, which seems ridiculous) and crossing can be as normal as going to the weekend market on one side of the river or the other. Ok, enough philosophical musing. I’ve gotta go do real work (meaning reheating my dinner from last night and hoping I don’t give myself food poisoning…food storage is a bit tricky without a fridge in 90+ degree heat).

Life in the GPo

There have recently been requests from my loyal readership to offer a bit more insight into my daily life here in the GPo. At the risk of boring you all to tears, here goes.

Right now, I’m trying to start an English club and a book club, both projects I’m pretty excited about. Today, I met with the English teachers of the local high school to get them on board with the English club, which was my first real experience with a Beninese style meeting (think lots of protocol and hierarchy). Overall, it was a successful meeting, though we did spend about half an hour talking about ways that previous English clubs have failed. I think that was to help us avoid pitfalls but it did seem a bit fatalistic at times. All in all, I think the English club is going to be fun – I have visions of playing Hangman and Scrabble and Simon Says. I’m also going to try my damndest (sp?) to get my hands on some “Schoolhouse Rock” so if anyone has it and can burn me a copy of some choice episodes, let me know.

Right now I’m working my way through a Ziploc of brownies that the PC Country Director made. She’s visiting all the volunteers and she always brings baked goods on her visits (awesome!). On account of the ants, I have to eat the whole thing tonight (this is not difficult).

Hmmm…took a break to read the SELF magazine the CD left with me. Am realizing now how terrible Peace Corps is for the health. Lets see…fresh vegetables limited to tomatoes, onions, occasionally carrots and cabbage. Oh, and okra and eggplant. Yum. Abundantly available are yams, cassava, white rice, and other calorie-laden starches. One of the main dishes here is pate, or cornmeal paste. Oh, and everything is cooked in oil. Deepfrying is a favorite cooking technique. At least I’m eating local. I’m resolving here and now to try and eat salad at least once a week and to attempt Pilates or some other time of exercise a few times a week. Though I bike everywhere, Grand Popo is completely flat and I’m pretty sure I’m not getting much of a workout. As I am not known for my willpower, we shall see how long this lasts.

Finally, my official project here is to work on stuff with tourism with the Mayor’s office. I wish I could be more specific, but alas, I’m not sure the Mayor’s office has a more specific idea in mind. For the moment, I’ve been talking to just about everyone and trying to get a sense of what is happening in Grand Popo already and what people would like to see happen. So, a typical day usually involves going to the Mairie for an hour or two, then heading off to pick up a survey from one of the hotels (I’m surveying them on their needs and perceptions of the role of the Mayor’s office in tourism). In the afternoon I will meet with a guide maybe or go to greet some official I haven’t met yet. It’s a slow moving life. Right now, I’m working on figuring out what it will mean to me to be “successful” so I can start figuring out if I am working towards success.

I don’t know if that clarified anything for anyone but I’m going to try and post less about bugs and more about my life in the future. Bugs are easy because I usually have a very strong and visceral reaction that doesn’t require much processing. But for you, dear readers, I shall attempt to dig deep and give you something interesting to read.

Jesus Ants

If I’ve spoken to you in the last two months, I have complained about the ants. Dear Lord, I have never hated something so small, so much. They get into never before been opened jars of peanut butter. They infiltrated the Tupperware with my sugar in it. They swarmed my freshly baked cornbread. I swear to God, I found an ant inside the screen of my cell phone. They are everywhere. They can even walk on water.

For a while, I thought I was outsmarting them – I would open a can of sweetened condensed milk, and (not having a refrigerator) I would put the can in a bowl of water. This was after putting a piece of cardboard in the hole and putting the can in a Ziploc bag failed to repel the ants. For a while, the system worked. Then one day I awoke to a can swarming with ants. I concluded that either they had divine help, or they were sacrificing some ants and using them as an insect bridge from the edge of the bowl to the can. The problem is that I am utterly powerless in the face of both scenarios. If God is on their side, I should just let them have the damn milk. And if they are so organized and masochistic so as to literally walk on the backs of their fallen comrades, well then, I don’t stand a chance.

At first I was angry – I threw things, screamed, and cursed at the ants. Then I was resigned – I tossed the sugar, stopped buying condensed milk. Next, I was defiant – they were not going to take my fancy (and expensive) granola bought in Cotonou away from me, even if it meant that I had to eat ants. Now, I am trying a tactic of all out guerilla warfare. I have an array of insecticides, all most likely illegal in the US and causing unknown harm to myself and potentially my future children. One is called “RAD” which stands for “Read a Dream” which not only is nonsensical but also has nothing to do with insects. It promises, “One touch kills vermin in the whole room!” It works well in the moment but doesn’t have the long lasting preventive power I’m looking for. So Sister Francisca (not really a nun, but it would be funny if she were) gets me some white powdered stuff called “Commando” which has the Ghana Standards Board seal of approval. It is multipurpose: you can use it on your garden, in your house, in your latrine, and to delouse your dog or fowl. Some volunteers from Burkina suggested filling cans with kerosene and setting them under the table legs. This might work, though I’m afraid that frequent power outages (and subsequent match/candle usage) might not mix well with open containers of kerosene.

So we’ll see whether these new plans work out. If not, I might need professional help by the time I’m done with my two years (sometimes I sing to them: “I hate you little anties/ yes I do/ you’re the worst creatures in the world.” You can make up the tune as you go along.) In any case, you don’t need to worry about me getting enough protein.