I’ve decided that it takes too much work to try to remember everything I want to share when I only send out big, infrequent updates. So…here is (what I hope will be) the first of many smaller, more frequent updates. Salut!
It is the middle of the rainy season here in Benin. Rain here doesn’t fuck around, either. Back home we get stretches of days on end when “it rains.” Usually that means there has been some minuscule, yet measurable, amount of precipitation. Not here. No, in Benin we had a two week stretch that just ended yesterday, when we had a good 2-3 inches of rain every day…every day for two weeks! Needless to say, the drainage system – such as it is – was massively overwhelmed. The roads around my house have up to a foot of standing water. And the best part, the drain behind my house got clogged with leaves and I had an inch of water in my bedroom and bathroom. Yippee!!! There is also paint flaking off of my bedroom ceiling in huge patches and the walls are all clearly soaked from the inside out; huge areas of dark sogginess are everywhere. Even the front door has expanded from the wetness to the point where I have to use my shoulder to get it open or closed. I think we must have arrived after the worst of last year’s rainy season, because I don’t remember it being anything like this when we got here.
The flip side of the rainy season is that it is also pineapple season…mmmmmmmm. Ginormous, yellow-orange, spiky footballs of deliciousness. Women walk around all over Cotonou with platters of whole, fresh pineapples on their heads. For 100f (about $0.25) they’ll peel one, slice it up and give it to you in a bag with toothpicks to make it easier to eat. THE perfect snack or dessert. Canned pineapple…never again.
A couple of stories from the “Cultural Adjustment Never Ends” file:
Was having lunch at a café not far from the bureau yesterday. It’s called Chez Tony and it serves what I think of as Lebanese comfort food: felafel, schwarma sandwiches, hommous, babaganouje and my personal favorite – sheesh taouk. (For those of you who know how much I love the sheesh taouk at The Mediterranean Kitchen in Seattle, this is nothing like that. But it’s still delicious. I digress.) Anyway, sitting there having lunch in the outdoor seating area and I felt something rub up against my leg under the table. When I looked down and saw a brown, furry thing I figured it was a small dog that wandered in from the street. But when it came out from under my chair it turned out to be a kid. NO! Not a child, a baby goat! C’est l’Afrique! (We actually have a little game we sometimes play here. We try to guess whether the screams we are hearing are coming from a child or a goat. They sound remarkably similar.)
And from the category of, “You ain’t all that enlightened, dude” comes the following incident:
I was buying grilled chicken from a street vendor near my house the other night. I do this a couple of times a week, so I know which ones are safe and which will leave me regretting it later on. Anyway, while I was waiting for my chicken a guy approached me and said that he had just arrived from Ghana and hadn’t found work yet and could I give him some money so he could get something to eat. As you might imagine, something like this happens frequently here in Benin – one of the ten poorest countries on Earth. I determined very early on that the only way for me to deal with these situations without going rapidly broke or crazy was to politely and consistently decline. So I said, “Sorry, I can’t give you any money.”
He asked again for money and I said, “I can’t give you any money, but if you want food you can have some chicken.”
He told me he needed money for him and his family, so I said, “Okay. Sorry, then. Good Luck.” And I left with my chicken.
As I said, this is a fairly common occurrence. I have long since gotten over any feelings of guilt I had about not being able to help every single person who asks. But as I was walking home I realized I was feeling guilty. WTF? Why, after months of routinely being confronted with the same situation, was I suddenly feeling guilty about this one?
I thought maybe it was because I was buying food at the time, but I offered him food and he didn’t take it. Then I thought maybe because he mentioned his family, but I’ve actually been waylaid by mothers with children in-tow, so that wasn’t it either. It wasn’t until I got back to the house that I realized what it was. He was from Ghana…so this entire exchange occurred in English. Unlike most other times when I can dismiss the situation with a quick, “Ce n’est pas possible.” or the somewhat more deceptive but always effective, “A la prochaine.” (basically, “I’ll get you next time.”) this guy engaged me in my own language. Something about the fact that we were speaking English made it seem worse when I had to refuse his request. Why? The only thing I can come up with is that by speaking English he seemed more like me; there was less distance between us – he was less ètranger – and so it was harder. ♫ We are the world…♫ My ass!
So…a couple big things coming up. Next Friday, July 4th, there will be a big shindig at the Ambassador’s house to celebrate Independence Day. Then, after the festivities it’s off to the airport to greet the next batch of volunteers. There are 65 in total, including 12 SED and 3 ICT volunteers who I will be working with for the first week of training. Should be fun!
Then, toward the end of July we are going to execute the first step in the Marketing plan for CAMeC; a series of public information meetings all around the country to promote the use of arbitration and mediation as a way to resolve commercial disputes. We will have at least one stop in each of the 12 departments (basically, provinces) of Benin. It should last from 2-3 weeks and I’ll get to see most of the country in the process. More details as they become available.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Friday, June 20, 2008
Time flies...
This last month or so has been a challenging time for me, both physically and emotionally. In my last post I mentioned having strained a muscle in my side…well, it turns out that’s not what it was at all. After a week or so of the pain getting worse instead of better I went to see the PC Medical Officer (PCMO). He poked and prodded and asked lots of questions and came to the same conclusion I had already come to after consulting the Internet (aka, the oracle of all human truth) – that is, it might be a gall stone. So he sent me off to get an ultrasound and, sure enough, there was about a 2cm stone in my gall bladder. Yikes!
So, back to the PCMO who ran a bunch of more tests to try to eliminate every other possible cause of the pain. In the meantime, he got in touch with the Regional Medical Officer to discuss possible treatment options. As we were discussing these possibilities, including being MedEvac’d to either Senegal or the US for surgery, I developed a lovely case of shingles. This was bad on many levels. First, it put any treatment for the gall stone on hold, because it is caused by a virus (the chicken pox virus, actually), so nothing more could be done until the rash was entirely dissipated. Second, of course, is the fact that shingles are really painful…no REALLY painful! Like codeine-before-bed-so-you-can-get-to-sleep painful. No shit. And the kicker is that the pain from shingles can manifest up to a week before the rash appears, which meant that it was entirely possible that the pain I initially went in for was caused NOT by the gall stone but by the shingles, and the ultrasound had simply revealed an asymptomatic stone that was just hanging around in my gall bladder minding its own business.
All of which adds up to the fact that there was nothing to do but wait, endure the pain (!!!), and see if the pain was still around after the shingles went away. The good news, I guess, is that once the shingles passed, the pain went with them. Which on the one hand means no surgery (yeah!), but on the other means no free trip home or to Dakar (boo!). So I think that one comes up a wash.
While I was spending most of the week with the PCMO, my counterpart was in Burkina Faso at in international conference on arbitration. Apparently, because we were both away, MCA took that opportunity to move us into our new office space. This should be good news. We’ve been waiting for this since I got here. It’s one of the reasons the business plan was such a priority; we couldn’t move until the funds were disbursed, which couldn’t happen until the business plan was approved. Unfortunately, the building where our new space is located is brand new…or more accurately, unfinished. There is power, but there are no phone lines, no Internet connection, and no AC. There is also almost no furniture; just the few pieces that came over from the old office. So now we are in place in a huge new space with almost nowhere to work and almost no way to do work. Needless to say, I’ve been spending a lot of time at the PC bureau.
One recent weekend was the first time since I got here that I actively wished I could have been at home. The Northwest Chamber Chorus just celebrated its 40th anniversary. The mayor actually proclaimed a Northwest Chamber Chorus Day in the city of Seattle. My mom has been singing with the chorus for all 40 of those years. The Chamber Chorus has been a part of my life for almost as long as I can remember. Of course, I didn’t always appreciate it as much as I have come to in my adult years. There were times, admittedly, when I hated Monday nights because mother was always in a hurry to get out the door to rehearsal. But I also have very fond, if somewhat sketchy, memories of singing with the chorus when I was a young boy. I remember in particular singing “Food, Glorious Food” in the sanctuary at University Unitarian Church. (This may have been with the church choir, I’m not entirely certain.) These days, it’s not really Christmas-time until I’ve heard the NWCC version of A Child’s Christmas in Wales – preferably in a live concert. And, of course, I have very clear and wonderful memories of going with the Chorus on their tour to France and Italy back in 2000 (was it really that long ago?) and being able to join in the warmth and camaraderie that have sustained their 40-year tradition. What a marvelous experience and what a great group of people to have it with! I am sad that I wasn’t able to be there to hear the anniversary concert and to help my mom and my friends in the Chorus celebrate this wonderful milestone. Birthdays and holidays come around every year, but something like this that only happens once makes me realize that life la bas really does go on without me.
All of this stuff has me, really for the first time in my life, confronting the fact that I’m getting older (NOT old, just older). I am closer to the next big round number than I am to the last one, and that next one is a big one. I’m effectively embarking on what could fairly be described as my third career. A big part of me feels like I’ve been all these places and seen and done all these things and yet I don’t have a lot to show for it. But if you were to ask me what more I would want I’m not sure I could give you an answer. C’est la vie?
And seemingly in the blink of an eye another month has passed. I think it was Marx who said, “Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.” (If you’re having trouble locating that reference in your copy of The Communist Manifesto, look under: Marx, Groucho.) Mother’s Day and Father’s Day have slipped by (not unnoticed – I love you and miss you both) and the 4th of July is rapidly approaching.
Speaking of the 4th of July, it is going to be a HUGE day for PC-Benin because the next group of trainees arrives in Cotonou that day. Yes, 65 more poor misguided souls have decided to give up their comfy little lives to spend two years in our little corner of Hell. (Mostly kidding!) Preparations are well underway for their arrival; a load of new mattresses (beware!) arrived at the bureau the other day, water bottles and gas bottles are blocking multiple passageways around here, and there are probably a hundred bicycles in various states of repair out in the courtyard. Stage will be held in and around Porto Novo this year, which should make the logistics a lot easier. I will be working as a trainer for the first week so I get to initiate the newbies into PC life and life here in Benin. Last year’s trainers did a great job of making us feel welcome and bringing us up to speed on la vie du Benin, so we have a lot to live up to. I have also recently been selected as co-coordinator for the Peer Support Network, a group of volunteers who are trained to provide confidential support and counseling to PCVs who need it. So, I will be visiting the stagiaires occasionally throughout their training to make sure all is well and to give them ideas for things they can do to ease their adjustment and better deal with culture shock.
I guess that’s about all the news for now. Keep those cards and letters coming.
So, back to the PCMO who ran a bunch of more tests to try to eliminate every other possible cause of the pain. In the meantime, he got in touch with the Regional Medical Officer to discuss possible treatment options. As we were discussing these possibilities, including being MedEvac’d to either Senegal or the US for surgery, I developed a lovely case of shingles. This was bad on many levels. First, it put any treatment for the gall stone on hold, because it is caused by a virus (the chicken pox virus, actually), so nothing more could be done until the rash was entirely dissipated. Second, of course, is the fact that shingles are really painful…no REALLY painful! Like codeine-before-bed-so-you-can-get-to-sleep painful. No shit. And the kicker is that the pain from shingles can manifest up to a week before the rash appears, which meant that it was entirely possible that the pain I initially went in for was caused NOT by the gall stone but by the shingles, and the ultrasound had simply revealed an asymptomatic stone that was just hanging around in my gall bladder minding its own business.
All of which adds up to the fact that there was nothing to do but wait, endure the pain (!!!), and see if the pain was still around after the shingles went away. The good news, I guess, is that once the shingles passed, the pain went with them. Which on the one hand means no surgery (yeah!), but on the other means no free trip home or to Dakar (boo!). So I think that one comes up a wash.
While I was spending most of the week with the PCMO, my counterpart was in Burkina Faso at in international conference on arbitration. Apparently, because we were both away, MCA took that opportunity to move us into our new office space. This should be good news. We’ve been waiting for this since I got here. It’s one of the reasons the business plan was such a priority; we couldn’t move until the funds were disbursed, which couldn’t happen until the business plan was approved. Unfortunately, the building where our new space is located is brand new…or more accurately, unfinished. There is power, but there are no phone lines, no Internet connection, and no AC. There is also almost no furniture; just the few pieces that came over from the old office. So now we are in place in a huge new space with almost nowhere to work and almost no way to do work. Needless to say, I’ve been spending a lot of time at the PC bureau.
One recent weekend was the first time since I got here that I actively wished I could have been at home. The Northwest Chamber Chorus just celebrated its 40th anniversary. The mayor actually proclaimed a Northwest Chamber Chorus Day in the city of Seattle. My mom has been singing with the chorus for all 40 of those years. The Chamber Chorus has been a part of my life for almost as long as I can remember. Of course, I didn’t always appreciate it as much as I have come to in my adult years. There were times, admittedly, when I hated Monday nights because mother was always in a hurry to get out the door to rehearsal. But I also have very fond, if somewhat sketchy, memories of singing with the chorus when I was a young boy. I remember in particular singing “Food, Glorious Food” in the sanctuary at University Unitarian Church. (This may have been with the church choir, I’m not entirely certain.) These days, it’s not really Christmas-time until I’ve heard the NWCC version of A Child’s Christmas in Wales – preferably in a live concert. And, of course, I have very clear and wonderful memories of going with the Chorus on their tour to France and Italy back in 2000 (was it really that long ago?) and being able to join in the warmth and camaraderie that have sustained their 40-year tradition. What a marvelous experience and what a great group of people to have it with! I am sad that I wasn’t able to be there to hear the anniversary concert and to help my mom and my friends in the Chorus celebrate this wonderful milestone. Birthdays and holidays come around every year, but something like this that only happens once makes me realize that life la bas really does go on without me.
All of this stuff has me, really for the first time in my life, confronting the fact that I’m getting older (NOT old, just older). I am closer to the next big round number than I am to the last one, and that next one is a big one. I’m effectively embarking on what could fairly be described as my third career. A big part of me feels like I’ve been all these places and seen and done all these things and yet I don’t have a lot to show for it. But if you were to ask me what more I would want I’m not sure I could give you an answer. C’est la vie?
And seemingly in the blink of an eye another month has passed. I think it was Marx who said, “Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana.” (If you’re having trouble locating that reference in your copy of The Communist Manifesto, look under: Marx, Groucho.) Mother’s Day and Father’s Day have slipped by (not unnoticed – I love you and miss you both) and the 4th of July is rapidly approaching.
Speaking of the 4th of July, it is going to be a HUGE day for PC-Benin because the next group of trainees arrives in Cotonou that day. Yes, 65 more poor misguided souls have decided to give up their comfy little lives to spend two years in our little corner of Hell. (Mostly kidding!) Preparations are well underway for their arrival; a load of new mattresses (beware!) arrived at the bureau the other day, water bottles and gas bottles are blocking multiple passageways around here, and there are probably a hundred bicycles in various states of repair out in the courtyard. Stage will be held in and around Porto Novo this year, which should make the logistics a lot easier. I will be working as a trainer for the first week so I get to initiate the newbies into PC life and life here in Benin. Last year’s trainers did a great job of making us feel welcome and bringing us up to speed on la vie du Benin, so we have a lot to live up to. I have also recently been selected as co-coordinator for the Peer Support Network, a group of volunteers who are trained to provide confidential support and counseling to PCVs who need it. So, I will be visiting the stagiaires occasionally throughout their training to make sure all is well and to give them ideas for things they can do to ease their adjustment and better deal with culture shock.
I guess that’s about all the news for now. Keep those cards and letters coming.
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