Hi everyone!
It has been two eventful days since my last post! Full of
Beninese fashion, and time with the host family and going to the market.
Yesterday, Friday, we left class at Songhai around 3 and
went to a local art center where all of the Peace Corps Trainees convened. We
knew we were meeting up for a Beninese fashion show, so a good number of
volunteers hustled and had outfits made, which they wore to the event. We got
to spend some time mingling and catching up, and admiring the flashy tissue (or
fabric) of our peers. 7 Trainees volunteered to be in the fashion show and the
fascilitators set them up with outfits for different occasions and of different
levels of quality. It was cool to appreciate what an expensive outfit looked
like and what was, or wasn’t, considered work appropriate.
Today we had a very brief language class at my house in the
morning, and the rest of the day was spent with the family. Around noon I
painted my nails and the nails of my two host sisters, Onelia (11) and Cena
(9). They really liked it, and wanted ech hand and foot to be a different
color. I didn’t think it was necessary to say they couldn’t! Still, I stuck to
pink for fingernails myself, and blue for toes. J
After that my host mama and I went to the market. Oh man,
that was one of the most intimidating experiences I have had so far. First off,
I think my host mama feels more comfortable speaking the local language of Gune
than French. I imagine it’s better for getting a deal anyway. We took Zemi
taxis to the market and the trip started off with a very long haggling session
about the price for the zems. Other people had to get involved. This isn’t a
bad thing in Beninese culture, it just means it was a more involved bartering
session than one where both parties clearly see eye to eye. I couldn’t help but
feel a little guilty. Not only was my host mama paying for me, but people tend
to assume that white people are wealthy, and insist on a higher price. After
working things out with the Zemi taxis we plunged into the market. Visually, it
reminded me a lot or the markets in Jeruslem; lots of vendors with stalls with
awnings side by side. Even though the look was similar the feel was very
different. Namely, in Jerusalem the vendors were usually targeting tourists,
here they were targeting locals. One stall would have spices, the next
vegetables, then fish then soap then hair supplies then tissue. And let me tell
you, there was not a lot of French being spoken! I spent a lot of time mutely
following my Mama, glad that she clearly knew who she wanted to chat with and
buy from, and feeling just a little bit like I would never learn the secret
code. However, I don’t want to paint a bad picture. The market does have that
sense of wonder of all these cool things out before your eyes, all the prices
negotiable, all the people interested in making a deal. There is something
missed when we pick up a shrink rapped box off the pile, for sure.
That being said, shopping for meat was an experience that
left me more than a little flabbergasted. After we had gotten everything else
my mama left the bags with a vendor she had chatted with at length earlier and
said to me, ‘Now we get the chicken’ but the word for chicken wasn’t dead
chicken, it was more like ‘the flying ones’ so I braced myself. My mama plunged
confidently into the crowd and I followed her. Somewhat suddenly she called out
to a woman walking by with a large basket on her head. I was shocked to realize
that the basket was full of live chickens, all sitting in the basket, gawking
at us. I soon found out that the chickens all their feet tied together, and I
guess once that is the case they basically just chill. A long bartering session
insued where each woman waved around
bouquets of upside down chickens and I did my best to not look astounded. Once
they came to an agreement (with the help of passers by) the woman left her
basket of chickens with another vendor(!) and we went to the chicken execution
stall.
I had asked my mama about this before and she said she would
pick the chickens live, but there was someone who would do the first
preparation steps that get you to chicken dinner. I’ve come to find out both of
my host parents are very eager and happy to let someone else take on that job. I’m
glad to be in good company. The booth, like many things I have experienced here
was initially incredibly intimidating, then seemed very reasonable, then still
was significantly different than I was used to. I will spare you the details
(don’t worry) but even though I resolved to try to watch the deed, I actually
didn’t even have the opportunity, because they do that part out of the direct
sight of the buyers. Apparently there are more than a few locals who prefer not
to be a part of that experience. I was relieved.
While we waited for the rest of the preparation to be
finished I chatted with some kids who had kind of congregated around me. It was
funny to catch myself staring in awe at the live chickens, and then notice kids
staring in awe at me! One of the girls told me she speaks 5 languages (French
and 4 local). 5 languages! Imagine a country where that is the norm.
I really want to talk more about people’s perception of
white people, and also about Benin in general, but I think this post is pretty
lengthy already. Feel free to bother me about those other topics and stay tuned
for them.
To follow up on previous posts, my health seems to have
jumped back to normal. I am getting to really believe in resting an upset
stomach, and then going to the Banana, Rice, Applesauce, Toast diet. Mom’s
recipe, as usual!
Thanks for reading!
With love,
Lauren
No comments:
Post a Comment