turning 30 never felt so great: part II...

with my chocolate birthday cake in hand i walked outside having missed everyone singing happy birthday to me, naima and john mark (who's birthdays were both the day after mine)...all my RCH group surrounded me and we traded stories about our villages, what local language we will learn and other cool things...since the cake was so huge i cut it up into small pieces and walked around offering all the trainees to join me in celebrating my birthday by eating some cake...within 15 minutes the cake was gone...

after post announcement, we returned to cocotier for afternoon classes...since gardening was on the schedule, we changed into crappy clothes and headed to a plot of land within cocotier to start small gardens...our health trainer kontos showed us how to till the earth, composting and insecticide, planting, watering and maintenance...we had a great time creating our own gardens...

the day ended at the buvette near cocotier where we usually ended up after classes...it started with a few of us at the buvette but soon enough everyone started showing up for my birthday celebration...we placed tables end to end that stretched out for quite a few feet...there were probably around 40 trainees...chadsey an environmental volunteer wiped out a candle, lit it and started singing happy birthday followed by everyone...it was sweet...

the next day we took a day trip to ouidah, the heart of the west african slave trade...it was a bit erie knowing that millions of africans were enslaved by the kingdom of abomey (one of the greatest kingdoms in benin), forced to live in dark rooms and walk around trees of forgetfulness before being placed on a slave ship to make the voyage across the atlantic with no food, basic sanitation, herded like cattle only to either die at sea (which millions did) or make it barely alive to the new world and forced into slave labor...many monuments, statues and the like litter the town of ouidah which has grown around this terrible history...


this monument stands on the very site of the mass grave that was found of the thousands that were massacared during the rigorious waiting period before being shipped to the new world...














"the door of no return" on the beach at ouidah...the last thing the slaves ever saw of their homeland...although angry stayed with me the whole day i was glad to have seen the site where it all began...












the great week ended on sunday with a birthday party at my host family's house...since there were so many trainees i had invited only the trainees in the RCH sector...unfortunately i was not able to invite everyone...my host mom ordered a cake and cooked ground beef with vegetables for sandwiches...
as my friends arrived i ran downstairs to my host family's part of the house to put on my new beninese outfit that i had made for my birthday...i'm wearing it in the picture...it was perfect...everyone had a great time...we ate sandwiches, drank beers and sodas from the bar around the corner and gobbled down that awesome cake my host mom had ordered...we even had a small dance party that ended with a gorgegous sunset...

i'm super excited that i finally reached the big 3-0!!!

turning 30 never felt so great: part I...

it didn't matter where i turned 30 so long as i wasn't in the united states when it happened...my vision was to be living in a mountain village in india, dressed in a beautifully ornate and vibrant sari, working with children orphaned by HIV/AIDS...well that's not exactly where i ended up...instead i reached 30 years old living with an family in west africa, dressed in a traditionally vibrant and colorful african outfit, learning french for the first time, and working in the realm of rural community health...not exactly what i had planned but is it really that much different...

the week of my 30th birthday was one of the best weeks of my life...and thankfully so since i was having a terrible time adjusting to my new life in benin...everything was completely different from ukraine which was exactly what i wanted but yet no less shocking to my body and mind...i rode to cocotier that monday morning dreading the week of french ahead...i wasn't doing well and we were having our first language interview thursday and site announcements were happening on friday, the very day i turn 30, which made my start to the week more stressful...i tried hard not to think about it but as i walked into my classroom and tiburce greeted me in french i held my breath and said to myself 'ok here we go again'...class started with the usually 20 questions and things started off pretty well...i was answering them with no problems...strange?...my french was flowing very nicely that i became more comfortable speaking it as the time passed...before i realized it, class was over...this can't be happening?...is my french finally coming together?...well see how long this lasts?...

had class again in the afternoon and again speaking wasn't as painful as it was the week before...i was shocked at how different i was speaking...my confidence improved, my frustrations started to ease but still in the back of my mind i was waiting for the bottom to fall out...i hadn't done anything particularly different like studying extra that would cause things to finally come together...but something was working with instead of against me that day...as usual, we ended up at the buvette (bar) with several other trainees toasting to the end of a good day...i announced to everyone that my birthday was on friday and that i would celebrate it at that buvette right after classes...everyone was invited to hang out...

as the week progressed, my french skills improved dramatically ...it seemed that after 3 weeks of struggling things were finally paying off...with this new confidence, my french only got better and of course i started to relax which was helped by my reverse culture shock diminishing...by thursday, i was a bit nervous about my language interview...not to make it worse i didn't open up my notebook to study...my french was flowing all week and even though i was nervous i just took it easy...when it was my turn i just walked right in there and didn't let anything get to me...i walked out straight to my friends saying nothing, showing no expression on my face...they knew i was having a rough time with french (they didn't know however how much of a hard time i was adjusting to benin and my completely new life)...they looked at me with apprehension and someone said, "so?"..."I ROCKED IT!"...i knew as soon as i walked out how i did but i wanted to save my celebrations for when i saw my friends...later that afternoon we received the results of our language interview...i went from novice (please i wouldn't even have called it that...i knew nothing) intermediate low...to celebrate we went to the buvette and drank ourselves silly ; )

two great things happened on friday: 1) i turned 30 and 2) i was about to find out where i would be living for the next two years...all of us trainees met at francophone with peace corps staff...it was an exciting day...feeling magnificent when i woke up that morning, i wasn't worried at all...about 2 weeks before i had an interview with my program director lauren, who had spoken to me about my preference regarding my post: size of community, kind of work, organization or gov't health center, electricity/running water or lack thereof, things like that...during that interview she had given me specifics about my potential post: i already knew that i was headed to a very small village, in which department i was headed, and that my village was on the border of togo with a market in togo...i knew my work could included HIV/AIDS, maternal and child health and that because my number one priority was a small village there would be no NGO to work with...i was cool with everything she had told me...all that was left was the name and location of my future home...each sector (health, environment, business and TEFL) was split up and in alphabetically order called to their respective program director for a private post announcement interview...unfortunately i was second to last so i had a long wait watching my sector mates coming back with shocked, excited, confused looks...although i wasn't nervous about my announcement i was anxious to know where i was going...and since it was my birthday i had tons of people distracting me with birthday wishes and little gifts like cookies and beer...when i was finally called i walked in ready to hear it all...what i didn't expect was lauren handing me a huge homemade chocolate cake with chocolate frosting on top for my birthday...that was totally awesome and really thoughtful...so after getting over the shock of birthday cake she tells me where i'm going...nothing had changed: i was still going to the same region, same health center that she had in mind, in a small village in the northwest region of benin on the border of togo (which i can walk to, sweet!)...here i come madjatom!...

to be continued...

boycotting the lunch lady...

for the first week during training i used to ride back home to my house and eat lunch there prepared by our domestique...i would always return so sweaty and smelly that before eating i would take a shower...this proved to be completely useless since within an hour i would get back on my bike and ride back to cocotier, arriving just as sweaty as i was before my afternoon shower...to solve this problem, my family would brown bag my lunch in the morning while i ate breakfast...so i no longer needed to make the trip during the day, when it is at it's most hottest...it made things much easier...i would place my lunch in my side pouch of my bike, throw on my messenger bag, put on my helmet and be on my way...my days were much easier - i could hang out at school, eat my lunch in peace, take a nap on the cement floor, a bench, or a table or walk around the neighborhood which is how i found my lunch lady but i'm getting ahead of myself...my host mom would always ask me what i would like to eat...my response would always been the same "surprise me"...at first i was happily surprised by the rice with chicken in tomato and onion sauce...pease, potatoes, carrots and pieces of hot dogs mixed together...spaghetti with a ground beef sauce...i was well fed, enjoyed food that was favorful and spicy (the way i like it)...however after some time it turned into rice with fish in a tomato and onion sauce, or pasta with fish in a tomato and onion sauce, fish with blah, blah, blah...fish, fish, fish...don't get me wrong i love fish bt it was getting to me eating it everyday plus for some reason the taste was no longer enjoyable to me...it went from being new, exciting, and pleasing to my tastebuds to old, boring and almost repulsive...out of respect for my family i would eat but one day my tastebuds revolted and i just couldn't eat it anymore...i returned home ashamed with my lunch barely touched one afternoon...antoinette, who made my lunch everyday, asked me why...i said i wasn't feeling well and that i had no appetite (which wasn't a total lie)...the next day i walked aroudn in search of a new place to eat and that's how i found the lady i would end up boycotting later...she spoke no french, only fon which is a tribal language mostly in the south of benin (50% of people in benin speak fon)...most times there was a girl or some kids running around who would end up following us out of curiosity who would translate for us...her rice and wagasi (cheese - i'll explain later) were amazing...so amazing that i would stop at a little hole in the wall store, buy myself a fizzy cocktail (a delicious fruit soda) and walk over to my lunch lady where i would eat there everyday for lunch and would convince others to join me there...

now what could ruin such a beautiful relationship...her attitude, rudeness and eventually trying to rip people (yovos) off...at first i can't say she was a very frendly person but she wasn't rude...her portions for the prices we were paying were also pretty skimpy...here in benin, you can either expect or ask them to add more food or an extra piece of something... i would always ask her to put a bit more rice and beans for the prices she was charging...she would laugh and then put a tiny bit more which really didn't make a difference...but the more i would go there with people the rudeness starting showing through...i kept going there cause i gotta say her food was great...but the rudeness was wearing thin on me...what eventually made me stop and boycott her all together were two incidents that happened within two days of each other...first incident, i ordered my usually rice and beans, two pieces of wagasi, sauce and two hot pepper...i enjoyed my food as always however when i went to pay she didn't give me change back...wait a minute, she owed money so i tell her how much i ordered 100F rice, 50F beans, 200F wagasi which is what i order from her every day...she tells me that i ordered 150f rice and 100F beans...i never order that and she knows that but for some reason she was trying to rip me off...we got into an argument cause she wouldn't budge and neither would i...at that moment one of the PC language teachers comes over and notices a problem...i tell him what happened and he helps me get my change back from the lady...in reality it wasn't much money but i've been eating at her stand everyday for weeks and everyday i order the same thing...suddenly she does this...i walked away feeling angry but not totally turned off...the next day is what did it...i was meeting two other people at her stand for lunch...i had some errands to do so i told them i would meet them there...as i was walking up i hear the lunch lady say 150F for wagasi to my friends...as soon as i turned the corner i immediately yelled at her for trying to rip us off again...when i was talking she just put her head down knowing she was wrong, and gave every one their meal for the right price but i had had enough...i walked right back to the school and announced to everyone my boycott and asked if they will join me...they did...

familia has a new definition...

in case i have forgotten to mention, i live with a huge family...there are 8 people plus the domestique (or maid) which makes 9 plus let's not forget the countless neighborhood children that are always hanging out in my house and the millions of cousins who show up and end up staying for days at a time...at any given time there can be up to 20 people running around, most of whom i don't even understand their relation to the family...some of the other PCTs have families with a husband, 2 wives, and 20-30 kids, all living under the same roof!...

so exactly how lives in my house?...ok here we go...my host mom has been married to my host dad who i have yet to meet cause he is in Cote d'Ivoire working for the United Nations since 1985...the twins paula and paulette were born two years before they got married...then gaston, their first son comes next, followed by yoland, emmanual, and bill...now the twins as well as gaston live in cotonou...i don't know exactly what they do or if they all live together but they come home on the weekends...yoland who just celebrated her 21st birthday stays at home...she has a learning disability which has prevented her from going beyond the 3rd grade...she has her everyday chores like cleaning the dishes or doing laundry...sometimes she will find me and talk at speeds i never thought imaginable with hand gestures and all...she seems so passionate about whatever it is she's talking about but i can't understand a single thing she says...i have explained to her that she needs to slow down, that i am learning french now and that sometimes i don't understand her...she will always laugh at that and then continue her mile-a-minute monologue as if i hadn't said i word...i just hold her hand and smile a lot...

emmanual is a young 17 year old boy who is always asking me questions...we have sat together many nights under my gazebo passing back and forth the dictionary in order to have a conversation…
and the youngest is bill... he's a very quiet kid who loves american hip hop and has posters all over his bedroom wall of 50 cent, lil wayne, etc and some basketball players...

then there's antoinette, the domestique (maid)...

my host mom tells me that in africa if a family can afford it they will take in a child and raise them as a domestique ...they do all the housework - cooking, cleaning, sometimes food shopping ...our domestique has been living working here since she was 6 years old - she's now 16...the only time i've ever seen her out of the house other then food shopping is when she goes to church...she can't read or write and has never been to school...i mentioned once the word "asia" and she had no idea what i was talking about...her world is confined to the walls of this house and maybe some parts of Porto Novo and her village...i started to feel bad for her...here is a strong young woman who has worked hard all her life but knows nothing of the outside world...she will continue to work for the family until she gets married and starts her own family...but why should i feel bad for her just because i couldn't be happy in her shoes...maybe she's happy where she is...she has a roof over her head, food in her stomach and clothes on her back...what else does she really need?...i found myself struggling between letting it go or wanting to sit her down and teach her things...who was i to make that determination without even thinking about asking her...they say education will set you free...they also say that knowledge is a burden...maybe she is better off in her ignorance than knowing about the world that we know today...

when it rains, it pours...

today has been the worst day of all...

there are days when you wake you and know what kind of day it will be...either you should try you luck at the mall or just stay home...but i didn't get the warning when i woke up...i didn't get any clue on how the day was to play out...as usual i rode the " kilometers to cocotier...my ride to school is not particularly stressful except for the sand pits along the dirt roads that grab onto my tires and turn eover as i try to ride through them...sometimes random children will yell "yovo, yovo, bon soir, ça va bien, merci" (whitey, whitey, good evening, everything's good, thank you"-even at 7.30 in the morning) or run after me...i arrived this morning as i do every morning sweaty...the only thing different was that i arrived extra early after making a promise to my language facilitator cause i was super late the friday before...with the extra time i sat on the steps outside my classroom and stared at the coconut trees as i caught my breath...still no sensation...not even a tingling in my stomach, a little warning telling me i should have stayed home...class started and we were off: qu'est ce-que tu as mangè ce matin? (what have you eaten this morning); comment ça va? (how are you); comment tu as passè le weekend? (how was your weekend)...and it went all downhill from there...my brain refused to learn french which is not cool especially since i understand di-da-li-squat...so i spent 2 painful hours struggling and forcing myself through french class...at one point i asked my classmate how was flying through everything what time it was (hoping that it was 10.00) but it was only 9.15...damn, not a good start for a monday...what made things worse was that i had the best day ever they day before...

early sunday morning at around 9.00 my host brother emmanuel took me to the tailor to get my first beninese outfit made...the tailor wasn't in so he took me around town...he showed me the neighborhoods around our house, the university, the police academy, the new hotels being built and the supermarket...we even found one of the four city cemeteries which was totally awesome...we walked, and walked, and walked...on our way back home we passed by the tailors house who had finally arrived...he showed me some magazines and i picked out an outfit for him to make with the fabric that i had just bought the week before at the bazaar...he took my measurements and told me he would bring it by on saturday...he was going to discuss with my host mom about the price...

by the time we got home it was 12.00...i didn't realize that we had been walking for that long...it was great cause i had the chance to expand my comfort zone a bit more...after lunch i went over to the RCH house which is where the RCH volunteers live while they work training...since i was the only trainee there and on a fabric buying spree we took zemidjans to the grand bazaar...we walked around looking for new fabric...i ended up buying 6 meters of one pattern which is enough to make a traditional outfit called a "bomba" and 2 meters for a pagne (a sarong)...i spent 7.300 francs CFA which is about 15 bucks...i'm in love with the fabric here in benin...most people do not wear western style clothes even though you can find them everywhere...just imagine the engagement ceremony scene in the movie "Coming to America" with all those huge hats and vibrant colors...

i loved looking at the fabrics, barginning for the real price, talking my choppy french and just being out and about...not having to worry about being somewhere, like french class...i even had the "oh my, i'm really in africa" moment which is an incredible feeling that always puts a smile on my face...after spending more than enough money on fabric, we headed over to the Java Pit, a local bar and restaurant...even though the food looked amazing, i only had a drink because my host mom expected me home for dinner...i stuck to my favorite soda from benin: cocktail de fruits by youki...after the restaurant we went outside to flag down zemis...a guy came over to me on his motto...now i was ready to bargin the price which is a necessity, especially if you are a foreigner cause there is always a special price for you...i tell him where i'm going and ask how much...i was ready for it: my special price and ready to negotiate...he immediately said 200...i was shocked cause that is the price from where i was to my house...without another word, i hopped on the zemi and we were off...since i have only been in town for a week my french is pretty bad so when we passed my house i panicked and couldn't tell him that so at the traffic circle he stops and i proceed to try to explain that we passed it and tell him i'll walk the rest...instead he insists on taking me back and directly to my doorstep...i was impressed cause i could barely speak french at that point...and he still only charged me the 200 CFA...i was feeling proud of myself for accomplishing a lot in french that day...i went from knowing nothing to telling a zemidjan driver how to get to my house...i was feeling great but then i woke up the next day to the worse day so far...

just like the rain here, great days are truly glorious and bad one are days i point my fingers to my head and pretend to pull the trigger...i know that the bad days will become less frequent but until then i have to face them...i don't know when they will cease but i'm hoping soon cause i don't know how much longer i can take days like today...

a typical day...

i don't know how to describe a typical day cause these days my life is anything but normal...i wake up at around 6.20 and hit snooze for about 10 mins...i was never a morning person...some mornings my bladder will wake me up at 5.00 which sucks cause its still dark and i have to climb put of my mosquito net, which can take a minute or two...after waking up i dig through my pile of already worn/not ready to wash yet clothes on my chair...if i find that i have woken up sweaty from a lovely night of malaria prophylaxis induced dreams then i take a shower...otherwise i get dressed...after about 10-15 mins of dressing while half asleep i get my bag ready with whatever materials i need for the day...i take my bag, my bike helmet, my bottle of boiled water and head downstairs to eat breakfast...i actually live in a fairly large house - a 3 floors cement building...on the first floor, a family rents that from my host family, my host family lives on the 2nd floor and i live on the 3rd which is a great set up...i have my privacy and yet i can hang out with the family anytime i want ...so breakfast consists of either porridge (tapioca, cornmeal, oats) with powdered milk and sugar, eggs with sautéed onions and tomatoes, or sometimes cereal...

at 7.30 i grab a snack usually bread with butter and jelly or fruit and head to the college de cocotier (school of many coconuts) where the rural community health and environmental action trainees meet everyday for language and technical training...it takes me about 20 mins to ride my bike to school (yes pc benin provides every volunteer and trainee with a bike) and hang out with others while i catch my breath before starting french class at 8.00...


considering i only have 2-3 hours a day of french, i'm a bit surprised that i've been able to pick it up s quickly...after class ends at 10.00, there is a 30 min break before our next class which is usually technical session on health...from 10.30 to 12.30 we learn about malnutrition and nutritional recuperation, how to conduct a baby weighing, pre and post natal care, gardening and village hygiene...at 12.30 we break for lunch which most people go home...even though we have 2 1/2 hours for lunch, i hated riding home and get sweaty all over again so i hang out at the school and find a nice lady to buy lunch from...(currently i am boycotting my lunch lady and on the hunt for a new one which i'll write about later)...a few others hang out during lunch and we just talk about nonsense to pass the time...if i didn't sleep well the night before i'll put harry potter audio books on my ipod and take a nap on the sand covered floor or wooden bench...apparently everything shuts down at this time...its like siesta in spain...love it...after lunch its back to more classes either french, tech, cross cultural, or bike maintenance...we work until 17.45 which is when my head wants to explode...at this time private tutoring begins for those who want to practice more...for the first week, i took advantage of tutoring but i have become lazy... i admit that it would be beneficial but i'd prefer to head to the local buvette (bar) down the road and my practice my french as i order a grand beninoise (large local made beer) from the lovely lady who works there...between 19.30 and 20.00 i get on my bike and ride home trying to avoid the sand pits as it grows dark...i never thought riding a bike through sand could be so difficult...


i arrive home all sweaty and immediately hop into the shower...although i have indoor plumbing, i do not have hot water...and why would i need it? - i'm living in west africa...i have truly come to appreciate and enjoy those cold showers...even on really hot days i still shiver every time i start my shower but about 2 mins in i'm lovin' it...my shower lasts about 5 min bt they are 5 glorious mins where i wash away all the sweat, sand, dirt, stress and some days urine (sometimes to end up pissing on yourself when you use a latrine - don't you judge me!)...afterwards i wrap myself in a sarong and sit out on the terrace under the gazebo and read a book, study french, write letters or blog entries, or practice my guitar until dinner...sometimes i'll hang out with my family and watch spanish soap operas dubbed in french...i'm hooked on "le femme de lorenzo" - the wife of lorenzo or "luz clarita" which has a theme song i can't get out of my head...i eat dinner at around 21.00when it comes to eating food, there exists a hierarchy: guest eat first and usually alone then the father, the mother, the children, then any adoptive children or domestiques (maids)...at first i felt uncomfortable with this but now it doesn't bother me...one time my host mom had to take me away from my soap opera so the rest of the family could begin eating...oops!...i'll usually hang with my family some more after dinner until around 22.00 when my eyes start to close on me...i head back upstairs, floss, brush and crawl back underneath my mosquito net...yet another sleepless night awaits with my malaria prophylaxis induced dreams to keep me company...

culture shock...redefined...

its exactly how i had pictured it: hot, humid and muggy with a million bright and vibrant colors; chaos and disorder on the streets with more zemidjans (moto taxi) than cars; woman in knee-length skirts, men with button-down short sleeve shirts; mosquitos waiting to attack; smuggled nigerian gasoline sold on street corners in glass jugs; the sexy sound of french being spoken everywhere and even some indistinguishable tribal languages...

however...well, that's exactly it...however...i don't know how to explain the feelings i have...i never experienced this when i arrived in ukraine...i have insight on so many things about what it takes to be a peace corps volunteer and yet i know nothing...at the moment i'm having culture shock...i've only been here one week...its crazy but its true...and i realized today why...

for several days i had been alittle stressed...french for one thing is not as easy as i had thought...while almost every language that i have studied had been a phonetical language, french is not...being a visual learner, french has proven to be a challenge...just the other day i was immediately frustrated during our french lesson...this happened to me week five of PST in ukraine...not week one...

what also hasn't helped is the fact that the pc staff here prefers to speak in french all the time, even during our technical and corss cultural sessions...even though i've been studying french for about 2 weeks, my knowledge of the language is practically nonexistent...its not their fault most PCVs have had several years of formal teaching in french, not to mention french is their first language...good thing i already know how to wash my clothes in a bucket, live with power outages and squat in a latrine without wetting myself or i'd be really screwed...

just the other day was the first day out of my comfort zone (ie: the street where i live, the route to school and the route to songhai)...that was a great day... children ran after me and yelled "yovo" as i rode by, when i say hello to strangers, they actually say hello right back (that could be the product of my "yovoness")...however i realized the extent of my ignorance with the beninese culture...life here is going to be nothing like my life in ukraine...

things are just very different...i stress on the word "very" here...yes, its is everything i imagined and more but there is an underlying thing which is preventing me from truly enjoying this experience...it has dawned on me...i'm going through culture shock...after 2 years 3 months and 2 weeks i was so accustomed to ukraine that i'm freaking out here in benin...culture shock for most people starts around the second or third month...well, i've been out of ukraine since june 1st and i'm starting to see what it means to readjust to your culture...but i'm not in my culture...i'm starting from zero all over again...no matter...i'll get through this...if i can do ukraine, i can do anything...

identity crisis...

how many times in a person's life could they have an identity crisis?...1, 5, 20, everyday?...i knew about this before even arriving...i knew it would happen to me...i kept reminding myself over and over again...they warned us - they will call you YOVO...but saying it and living it are two different things...

it didn't really hit me until i was on the streets of cotonou, benin and a kid ran by yelling "yovo, yovo"...i've considered myself brown my whole life...to me latino = brown (neither white nor black but in between)...in america, i'm considered brown...during my travels in europe, people asked me if i was brown or black...for ukraine, i was definitely black, even african...there were even moments where i stopped dead in my tracks at being addressed as the n-word...YEAH!...its almost impossible to fathom but it happened on a weekly if not daily basis...

each culture views the color of one's skin differently...from my father calling me dark to the children in school questioning why i wasn't white to seeing bewildered looks on people faces as they try to figure out how to categories me, my identity has always caused confusion...

however for the first time in my life i am considered white...once again, my identity has come into question...or rather there is no question: whether i like it or not, i am a "yovo" in benin...