the state of health...

for most of my life i had this uncontrollable fear of hospitals...when i was about 3 or 4 i remember my mother lying in her bed after a hospital visit, so weak from the procedure they did that i thought hospitals took in strong people and released them when they were weak...i saw my mother as the incredible hulk and when i saw her lying on the bed unable to move i made the immediate decision to never enter a hospital ever in my life...

well almost 20 years later, i too ended up in a hospital in ukraine for 3 days...for i came into the hospital dehydrated, delusional, and very weak but came out rested, hydrated, and the most part on the road to recovery...i never thought in a million years that i would some day work at one...ironically i have chosen a career that is somewhat connected to hospitals...public health...and i love every minute of it...which is what brought me to africa...currently i am a rural community health volunteer at a health center in a very small village in northern benin...everyday at 09.00 i head over to the maternity ward of the health center and do what i can to help...whether that be organizing inventory, taking blood pressure and temperature of patients, record-keeping, discussing health issues with pregnant women, or providing ideas for improving our health services, i do what i can...i usually hang out until noon where we lock up the center and go home for repos (siestas)...i'd cook lunch for myself and then take a nap for an hour before returning to the maternity at 15.00 (3pm)...i would hang around some more doing what i could until we would go home at 18.30 (6.30pm)...some days when the rains would not let up and no one would show up, Francoise, Agnes, Eliane and i would just talk about everything and anything from my "white" skin to my experiences in america, to sorcery, domestic violence, and health care in benin...i am very fortunate that i can on any day walk into a consultation, childbirth, sleeping area and ask as many questions as i want to anyone around, that i work with some very dedicated village health workers who are working within a system that is dysfunctional and sometimes harmful for the people...

my time so far has given me such perspective on the state of health in benin...where to being...benin is a very poor country who's transition to democracy has helped alleviate corruption but is still lacking in some of the basic health care we as americans take for granted...benin ranks near the bottom in the world...on average there is one doctor for every 7,000 people...in my area there is one doctor that serves a population of 47,000 people...life expectancy is around 57 years...5.4 children born/woman...maternal mortality is 500 out of 100,000 and infant mortality is 80 deaths/1,000 live births...1.2% of the population is HIV+ with some areas at 2% including my area...

what are the consequences?...for one thing there aren't enough qualified nurses or doctors to provide medical care to the population especially in remote villages like mine...my health center is split between 2 villages where the maternity, which takes care of maternal and child health, is in my village and the dispensary, which deals with accidents, injuries, etc, is about 5 km (3miles) away in another village...our village health center serves a population of about 5,000 people with half the population living several miles away...some people walk for hours to get to us...women have given birth right on the road cause they had no other means of getting to the maternity...but at the same time many of the villagers don't even use the health centers...traditional practices keep them from seeking treatment to very easily curable diseases like typhoid fever, malaria, gonorrhea, etc...

in africa there are 2 types of diseases: 1) western diseases that are cured by medicine found at the hospital and 2) african diseases that are caused by sorcery and can only be cured by sorcery...because africans believe that there are spirits all around and that at any time anyone can use them to cause diseases on someone they despise they first go to what they call in french a "charlatan", a kind of "witch doctor" who determines if the disease is of western or african origin...of course for the most part he will say that its an african disease and will provide the cure so long as you pay him 10,000FCFA (about $20USD) for the consultation plus the cost of treatment which is a good amount of money...because of these traditional beliefs, very few people seek out the health center...

since my arrival, i had been working with ismael, "major" or head nurse at my health center...we have become very good friends and work partners that he takes me every where...i had the opportunity to consult an HIV+ man, who had come to our health center in a terrible state...he was in the last stage of the disease: AIDS...he had multiple complications: fever, chronic coughing, head aches, vomitting, diarrhea...he wasn't eating, drinking, sleeping, he was practically dead when he arrived...we convinced him to get on the antiretroviral medications that are available in benin...within a month, the man health had improved drastically that he was able to return home...unfortunately while he was in the hospital, his wife and 3 young children b/w the ages of 7 and 1 years old sat with ismael and me...we spoke to her about the risk to her and her children, about the treatment plan for her husband, and asked her permission to test her and her children at that moment...it was frustrating to watch, i felt pity for this family, i felt angry for the fact that these children will be forever affected by this disease whether as orphans or succumbing to the disease themselves...i helped ismael gather all the test strips, needles, cotton balls, alcohol, everything needed to draw blood and do the test...we started with the wife and mother of his children...ismael with gloves on drew her blood and placed it on the test strip...he added several drops of the serom that will identify HIV antibodies in the blood...it takes a few minutes before you can read the test strip so we started to work on the kids...we took blood from the 1 year old first, then the girl who was about 4 years old and lastly the boy who was 7...during all this the wife's test strip turned positive...man, not the news we were hoping for...as for the children, its not automatic that they will be positive too but the outlook is not good...i had to brace for the fact that all the children could very well be positive and they would never grow up to be adults...i was holding the littliest one in my arms and playing with him...i looked into his eyes and saw nothing but pure joy and innocence...he has no idea of the destruction that has started to take place in his family...of the pain and suffering he and his siblings will endure...this little baby's fate was decided by his parents...

the little boys test was ready...ismael read my face and said: "are you ready rut?"..."yeah, i am"..."negative"...such relief but its not over...he would have to be tested every 3-6 months for the next year to prove for real that he is not HIV+...the 4 years old girl: undetermined...7 year old boy: undetermined...not the best news...we place their blood in a cooler to take to the district health center 25 km away...they will have to run further tests to determine serology...the fight continues...

while the man was recovering at home, ismael and i continued to do home visits...we provided counselling and support, nutritional advice, encouraged him to continue the drug therapy...we spoke to his mother who was taking care of him...that day i found out the hard way about africans and their beliefs...they told us that this disease was an african disease and that our medicine was not going to help...i asked the man if he had felt better after taking the medicine?...yes, he had...had his appetite returned?...yes...had he been able to sleep again?...yes...had he stopped vomitting?...yes...had he been able to walk again?...yes...hadn't his whole life seem to come back to him?...yes...what do you think brought you back to life?...i don't know...these traditional ways of thinking is what keeps benin from progressing in all aspects of life especially in healthcare...even the well-to-do, educated people believe in this stuff...it was hard to listen to this man when his children where running around the courtyard...i kept thinking that this whole family will be dead if we do not intervene...but its not up to me...its up to him and his family...i felt helpless for the first time...but it would not be the only time...

whipping fete...

it was dawn...
the sun had just begun to rise...as the town of badjoude appeared before our eyes, people slowly trickled out of their homes and joined us at what during the day was the market...they too came to see the fight...not knowing what to expect but having had visions about it since it was first told to me, i stood there on the road waiting with great anticipation...this would be my first time witnessing such a spectacle...in the distance whistles were blown along with faint chanting...they were on their way...it seemed that they were coming from all directions...i looked down the main road but saw nothing...as the chanting and whistling got louder a different set of whistles from another direction began also followed by chanting...i kept looking in all directions trying to find the source of all this noise but nothing...just as i gave up and started walking back to the crowd something caught my eye...over the hill you could see whips suspended in the air marching towards us in unison...
the walking whips seemed to deceive us but only for a short time soon we could see that they were attached to the men who continued to march towards us...the chanting grew much louder once they came over the hill...at the same time another group of men and whips were coming from the other direction blowing whistles and chanting a different song in unison...as the men of both groups got closer i noticed something that didn't fit: some of the men were wearing woman's clothing...shirts, tight tank tops even bras that were stuffed to look like real breast...some even wore wigs and lipstick...it was a bit bizarre since there are strict gender roles and rules here: men would never do woman's work yet on this day they dress as the opposite sex...
other men were dressed in a woven cloth wrapped around their waists and usually a matching one around their heads...others were dressed in leather skirts covering their lower half with strips of leather hanging down and a string of peanuts or other things criss-crossed across their chest and back and a feathered headdress to top it off...
other older men would be carrying around several whips like a caddy carries golf clubs for a golfer... some even attached little stuffed animals to their shirts or headdress...finally as both crowds neared us they started to dance, stomp and chant in place to taunt each other...this lasted for sometime until someone jumped over to the grass area and then the two groups followed...even quicker the crowd ran to follow and i stood there for a split second wondering what to do... i decided to run right after everyone as well...the whipping started at once, disorganized and out of nowhere...men were whipping each other then would throw their arms up in the air in triumph as other men usually older would run over to cheer him on...it was complete chaos...there were men running around with animal bones pretending they were cell phones, using them to make phone calls or others had video cameras and were filming the crowd pretending to take photos of us...every once in a while a whip would come flying in my direction but i was too busy watching and taking pictures to the whipping to notice that i was getting hit...soon enough the chaos turned into organized one-on-one whipping combat...each man received three chances to whip their opponent...once he had his three they would switch and the other guy had his chance to whip three times...on the third hit the "caddies" would jump in to make sure nothing further was done and the fight was over...from another part of the field people would start pushing to clear the area...the two fighters would be the only ones left in the center...a new fight would begin...this would happen many times you never knew when or where a fight would start...sometimes i was caught right next to a fighter...i took those opportunities to take great photos but almost got crushed with a whip at the same time...at one point a friend and i held hands trying to get out of the center of one fight only to end up in the center of another...the adrenaline rush was awesome; nowhere was i going to have the chance to see something like this...our group got separated throughout the fighting and it wasn't until a few hours later when we returned to kate's house did we finally see each other again...

the twins...

latifatou, moises, shabi and i were sitting on my porch in the middle of a conversation when agnes, the pharmacist, ran over to my house with a flat, metal container in her hand...a woman next door to agnes was in labor and ready to give birth as we spoke...since moises arrived on his moto latifa grabbed his keys without asking as i grabbed my helmet...as i jumped on the moto that latifa has already started up, agnes handed me the metal container...suddenly we were off to find the woman...by the time we arrived she had already given birth right in the grass to twins: a boy and a girl...they were so small and barely moving...i opened the container to find gloves, scissors, and 2 small clamps...latifa put on the gloves before tying off and cutting the ambilical cords...as she was doing this, she yelled for some cloth and a basin...an older woman handed me the cloths which i quickly arranged them for wrapping up the kids to take to the health center...once the babies were wrapped, we placed them in the basin...latifa then assisted the mother with the afterbirth and afterwards wrapped the mother up to soak up the blood and extra fluids...as she was working on mom, i grabbed the basin with the twins and took them over to the moto...latifa instructed the mom to stay put and bring the kids to the center...she jumped on the moto and signaled for me to get on...my instincts were immediately in gear, i put on my helmet, picked up the basin and hopped on without thinking twice...it wasn't until we started moving that i suddenly realized that i was carrying two newborns in a basin on a motocycle...'don't you dare drop them' played in my mind like a broken record as we rode over rocks, bumps and other challenges to getting these babies to the health center safely...the faster latifa went, the harder i held on to the basin until we reached the center...

i hopped off just as fast as i hopped on and ran into the delivery room with the basin where francoise, the matron (midwife's assistant) was waiting...as soon as i got off, latifa had taken off for the mother...carefully francoise grabbed the babies from the basin, placed them on a bed and began to clean them off, weight, measure and clothe them...in the meantime, latifa arrived with the mother and placed her on the delivery table to make sure the placenta had been completely removed...when a woman gives birth at the hospital they are supposed to bring extra rags, soap, petroleum jelly and clothes for the baby...the father was somewhat paralyzed from the waist down and used a hand-pedal wheelchair to get around or placed flip-flops on his hands and dragged his feet along behind him for shorter distances...the mother was also partly paralyzed except it was her leg and arm on the left side...i have no idea what the father does but mom is a seller at the market...they also have 2 other girls: 3 and 6 years old...the family was so poor that all they had were rags...there was nothing to clothe the children in...

harmattam had just started so the temperature was starting to cool down...the babies needed to be properly dressed so i asked if we could all chip in money and buy the children some clothes...agnes who had been waiting for us at the health center collected money and went a few villages over to buy baby clothes...while agnes was gone, mother and twins were placed in the hopital section where they would stay for a few days before returning home...a few hours later agnes returned with the clothes for the twins...the mother was very touched and grateful that she kept thanking us over and over...

the following wednesday the mother had brought the twins for vaccinations...she was having a hard time breastfeeding them which we were very concerned about...we kept encouraging her to keep trying...i also made it a point to visit the family once a week, just to see how the family was doing and to monitor the progress of the twins...around the end of october i made my third visit to their home...'good afternoon'...'how are you?' 'and your husband?' 'and your girls?' 'and the twins?'...'the girl died'...'WHAT!'...'yeah, she died last week'...'of what'...'oh, we don't know she just died.'...and like that life goes on...i was astonished at their casualness when they said she died...it was as if that happens every day like brushing your teeth...or eating...something you don't think twice about...ironically, here in africa children die all the time for no reason at all...out of every 5 babies born today 1 will never reach its 5th birthday...out of every 1,000 live births, 32 children will die at birth, 35 will die within the first 2 months, 129 will die between 1 and 5 years old...so the death of the twin girl was no surprise to anyone, except to me...

surviving...

i am surviving my first month without electricity or running water...that was a lot hard at first than i had original imagined...living without those things takes getting used to...for the first couple of weeks i would get up and try to find something only to realize that i can't see a thing cause i left the lantern in the other room...when there's no electricity, you gotta remember to carry your lantern with you everywhere you go...you also get a sense of how dark night really is...its not like back home where because of all the lights, its not very dark...you cannot possibly imagine what darkness is really like...it is truly an amazing thing to experience...having no running water was also strange at first...i've taken what we call the "bucket bath" before but it was another things entirely to know this would be my everyday routine to wash myself (sometimes 3 times a day)...for those of you who have never had the pleasure of taking one, a bucket bath is where you fill a bucket with water, grab a cup, and proceed to wash yourself...it takes some getting used to...the first few times i took my nightly bucket bath my eyes would wonder around my cement shower and begin to comprehend the choice i have made to do peace corps again this time in africa...

the one thing i can say that my house wasn't lacking were cockroaches, spiders, scorpions, rats, lizards and mice...and they all happily lived with me in the space between my ceiling and the roof...the day that i arrived in my village i didn't even think about the fact that i had no electricity or running water or furniture...we had been driving since 6am and we arrived at 10pm that night...i just placed my mattress on the floor of my living room, rigged my mosquito net around the mattress by attaching it on one side to a chair, on the other to my bike...

i didn't even shower (well i didn't have any water to take a shower with)...i just crawled under my mosquito net and went to sleep...in actuality i couldn't sleep due in part to the roaches "flying" around my living room...they usually only frequent my latrine but at night they get adventurous...(a side note but relevant to my first night: roaches are loud walkers and flyers...no matter where they were i could always hear them...one night while i was sleeping a roach ran across my bed near my head...i woke up irritated and disgusted remembering where they live but the funny thing is what woke me up was the pounding of his feet as he made the mad dash across my bed)...so all night i kept hearing them (another side note: i utterly hate and am disgusted by roaches...the first few nights i could not use my latrine cause they had taken it over at night...hundreds of roaches would be climbing out of the hole and up the walls...OK maybe not hundreds but enough to freak me out...the first night my counterpart had to spray my latrine cause i couldn't even suck it and do it myself...HA!)...
what kept me up most nights was the "rat race" literally going on above my ceiling...of course they always chose to make the most noise while i was trying to sleep...along with the rat race in the ceiling, the rats had invaded another part of my house: the kitchen...it was bad enough that i had been living on the floor but to have giants rats (and i mean bigger than new york city rats - as big and long as you forearm big) making a mess of my kitchen...one night i woke up to dishes, pots and pans falling onto the floor...the noise was incredibly loud that i thought someone had broken into my kitchen (to enter my kitchen i have to exit my house into a small patio and enter my kitchen through another door)...my first instinct was to grab the heaviest thing i could, something that could do the most damage...i didn't have much so i grabbed my bike pump, walked quietly to my side door and waited...i listened very attentively to figure out where they were...they wouldn't be ale to get into my house unless they broke through my door which was highly unlikely...so there i was waiting...when i didn't hear anything for a long time i assumed the intruder had left so i opened the door ready for him anyway...no one was there and the kitchen door was closed too...interesting that is a very courteous intruder to rummage through my kitchen only to close the door and close the latch on his way out...when i reached for the kitchen door i heard a noise inside...now it was not possible that a person was inside and the kitchen door was locked from the outside...it has to be an animal...but what animal and how?...well only one way to find out...i opened the door and what did i find...a huge, huge rat the size of my arm that had knocked over all my things

(since i had no furniture and everything was close to the floor within reach)...when i shone the flashlight on him he squeaked, I screamed he ran, i ran...he ran across the patio and exited through my drainage hole, thereby showing me how he entered...from time to time the rats would come into my kitchen and chew up everything until i finally got smart and covered my drainage hole with a screen...now they don't come visit anymore...but there were still some other undesired visitors coming in the middle of the night...

one night around the first week in my new house i had opened the door to my kitchen and noticed something running out of the kitchen as i was walking in...at first i thought it was a small rat or mouse...i grabbed my little broom determined to kill whatever it was...when i saw it i began to hit it nonstop...after the first hit he turned around...but that didn't look like a mouse?...what in the hell is that?...i kept hitting it until i was sure it was dead...i got closer to examine it but it didn't look like an animal, more like a bug...i had my suspicions on what it was but i wanted confirmation before i uttered a word...i called over the girl next door...when she arrived she gasped..."what?" "its a scorpion"..."a scorpion?"..."yes"...oh jeez...i had never seen one before in my life...i've seen one on television but nothing compares to seeing it in person...they are truly the ugliest, scariest, and most threatening-looking things on the planet...she proceeds to tell me that if you get stung by one it hurts like hell and some people die...seriously now?!?!?!...now i was scared...i don't want to die at least not at the hands (or stinger) of that ugly thing...man after that i was really paranoid so i would scan everything before moving forward...another night i was in my bedroom about to walk through my doorway when i saw a scorpion walking above my door back up the wall and disappear under the ceiling(note: my ceiling is not well done. there are gaps between the the wall so things can crawl through like SCORPIONS)...he was gone but i was still very unhappy to have an unwanted guest in my house...i sprayed my ceiling with insecticide like everyone had told me and before i walked out of my door something had fallen from the ceiling...i point my flashlight in the direction of the noise but i didn't see anything so i moved in closer...there on the ground was a scorpion facing the wall with his stinger up...i panicked and tried to calm myself...i have to kill it...there is no one here to help so i grabbed what i now call my scorpion stompers and got ready...i moved some things out of the way and poked the scorpion to get him moving...he moved, i screamed but not enough for me to get a clear shot...i took a deep breath and convinced myself that i'm way bigger than this guy...what can he do to me...i poked him again and this time ran straight for me which gave me a clear shot and it was over...he was dead...after killing him i ran over to latifa's house and told her how i'm a bit scared to go to sleep...i couldn't believe how scared i was over something so small but as everyone keeps telling me they are dangerous...latifa and her fiance walked back with me to my house to help me inspect it...i was sure that the scorpion in my bedroom that got away was still there...shabi, her fiance, starts inspecting around while i go out to my patio for something...just then latifa screams, shabi grabs a shoe and i'm left wondering what is going on as i stared at both of them from the other side of the doorway...BAM...thump...another scorpion dead...so i'm not the only one afraid of these guys...so i ask them the same question i had been obsessed with: can a scorpion kill a person...shabi and latifa both answered yes but only if sorcery is attached...HUH!?!?!?... scorpions and sorcery...explain...well here in africa there are people who practice sorcery...there are two kinds: good and evil (of course)...good sorcery is a socially acceptable practice...many people take their sick to a sorcerer to cure them...however there is also sorcery that some practice to kill people...a person may try to kill you by placing "gris gris" on a scorpion and have that scorpion sting you...with sorcery attached, you will die...this is what latifa explains to me...excuse me but are you telling me that the only way i will die from a scorpion is if someone has put a spell on the scorpion?...yes, she said...do you believe in this, i asked..."oh yes it exists", she said...from that moment on i started to lose my fear in scorpions...

lizards are probably the only thing that didn't bother me much except when they ran around in my ceiling...like the rats in my ceiling they always seem to be having their own races...because of them i've started to wear earplugs...some times i have resorted to hitting the ceiling to get them to stop: some times that works; other times not really...one morning i woke up to something jumping around in my bedroom...i didn't have my glasses on so i couldn't tell what it was...plus the mosquito net made it even harder...i quickly put on my glasses and slowly crawled out from under my mosquito net...hanging upside down from a gap in my ceiling was a rather large lizard...he wasn't moving - i assumed he was dead so i decided to take care of the thing that was making all this noise first...as i walked closer to this thing, it jumped up from behind my suitcase, grabbing on to the wall before falling again...i finally caught a glimpse and saw that it too was a large lizard...i ran to my livingroom and grabbed my broom using that to guide (more like push) him out of my house...so i came back for the other guy...he was still hanging motionless upside...i poked him thinking he was dead...he fell onto the floor and started running around, jumping up trying to crawl back up the wall...it was comical to watch...for a minute or two i watched him try in vain to jump up onto the wall only to land flat on his face...when i realized that he wasn't going to run for it, i pushed him around with my broom until he reached freedom...

this is my new life...a very different life...welcome to africa!

why did i do peace corps again?...

i asked myself that a million times during that 9 weeks of training i had to endure all over again...while still in ukraine i had my reasons for doing another tour: gain more public health experience, live and work in africa (my original preference when i applied for peace corps) finally learn french, mostly to have a chance to do public health before committing myself to a masters in public health program...they were all good reasons for me and all would help me acheive my goal of working in public health in africa...but as i sat through training again i wondered if that was enough...don't get me wrong that staff was extremely kind and helpful, i learned a great deal about health issues the african continent faces but i just wanted to move to my village and get to work...

part of my frustration came from having already done peace corps...when i arrived at staging in philadelphia i barely spoke to anyone...i had just come off one of the greatest experience in my life...to a certain extent this time around i knew what to expect which made it even more frustrating...since i had done it before i was in a very differnt place than my entire group....what also made things worse was the fact that I was going through reverse culture shock (having been out of ukraine for so long) and culture shock (adjusting to beninese culture) at the same time...and then of course the nature of training itself...to lose my ndependence (in so many ways) again was hard enough the first time but having to lose it a second time - you have no idea...i thought training would never end...

when it seemed like I couldn't take it anymore we were finally sworn in as the 21st PSL group and at the same time celebrated 40 years of pc benin...so was it all worth it? i don't know yet...ask me that again in a few months...maybe i'll have an answer for you then...

another child lost of africa...

i witnessed my first birth and death of a child...it happened fast and without warning...i had barely spent a day visiting my new post when i encountered my frst pre-natal consultation with a young woman from the village...not that long before i was showing a peace corps volunteer from a nearby village my house which is located directly across the street from the health center...we were walking back to the maternity ward when my counterpart, latifatou (the nurse/mid-wife), called me over from the consultation room...lying on the table was a very small young woman with a very large round belly while latifa was listening to the woman's stomach with an old style stethoscope...i waited patiently as latifa checked her vitals...although they were speaking in lokpa, the local language, the woman could barely speak when answering questions...she was having respiratory problems and abdominal pain...latifa turned to me and told me the baby was breeched (baby was feet first)...she also informed me that the pregnant woman had visited a "charlatan" (witch doctor)...she had been married for 3 years and was unable to conceive...in hopes of conceiving she visited the witch doctor who gave her a special cream to rub over her chest and back...what was in the cream we do not know...he even told her that he would deliver the baby and not to give birth at the maternity ward...eventually she conceived this child but with the breeched situation there was no way she could give birth in the village...in order to give birth at the maternity ward, the baby's head must come out first...if not village health centers don't have the facilities to operate...since our maternity cannot do operations latifa referred the young lady to the hospital in Djougou ( the closest city which is 46 kilometers away)...she must have a c-section or the baby and the mother could die...latifa signed the referral form and as we were walking outside the young woman's father-in-law arrived...latifa explained the situation to him and the urgency of leaving right now...i realized that the abdominal pain she was having was actually labor pains and that she could give birth at any time...for a while they did nothing, just sat around waiting...waiting for what?...i didn't know...about 30 minutes went by and finally a zemidjan arrived... they put the young woman on the zem and all i kept thinking was with all the bumps that woman's going give birth on the road...

little did i know that about 30 minutes after they drove off another zem returned with the baby...she gave birth on the road just outside of the village...that woman never had a chance...they placed the kid on the table and i walked in about 5 minutes later...as i walked through the door i stopped short...i had never in my life seen a newborn baby minutes after birth but this baby i later realized was not your typical looking baby...he had a deformed head: instead of being round it was elongated...he had 6 perfectly formed fingers on each hand, his chest was super small while his stomach was twice the size of his entire body, he also had teeth formed just right under his gums (you could see the whiteness showing through)...he was barely breathing taking a breath every 30-40 seconds...it was painful to watch...he died there right on the table within a few minutes... the young woman who had just given birth returned on another zem...i moved away from the door where i had been standing...as the mother walked in she looked over at her dead baby, climbed on the delivery table, and said nothing...she delivered the afterbirth (placenta), wrapped herself up in sarong and walked to the hospital room...not once shedding a tear for her dead baby boy...immediately i walked outside, around the back of the maternity ward and started crying...i was crying for the baby who just died, crying for the woman who just lost her first baby, crying for the countless babies that die here in africa everyday, and i was crying for myself having witnessed death with my own eyes...

shaken from the day before i wondered what my second day at my post would be like…i was laying in bed slowly waking up when latifa called for me to come to the maternity…i got dressed and walked out the door…i entered the delivery room to find a woman lying on the delivery table with latifa checking how far along she was…she informed me that she’s ready to give birth…while standing there, i began to feel nauseous…this can’t be happening…I tried to fight it but i had to walk outside to get some fresh air…i couldn’t believe it…i had a fear of hospitals my whole life but i’ve gotten over it but now it seems that i just can’t handle it…my nausea went away so i ventured back in the delivery room…only to have it return a few minutes later…my brain was telling my body to get over it but my stomach kept insisting that i get out of the room…once again i walked out to catch some fresh air…this happened several time until when i returned again the woman was in the middle of pushing her baby out…oh man, my first live birth…my brain finally won over my stomach and allowed me to stay in the room…soon enough i saw the head crowning, there was a bit of hair on his little head…within a few seconds his shoulders, his stomach, then his legs and finally his little feet come out…it was amazing except for all the blood…yikes, it looked painful too…but it was beautiful…

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...