**I wrote this on October 13th**
Hi Everyone,
I don’t expect to be able to post this to my blog for a
little while, I thought I’d write just the same. It’s been a week since I last
updated the blog in the Kandi workstation, and I’ve been keeping track of some
thoughts and anecdotes that I wanted to share.
First I wanted to tell you about the taxi ride back from
Kandi to Banikoara (before the motorcycle taxi ride from Banikoara to
Founougo). Taxis tend to be over crowded as a rule, but this one was a record
breaker. Four of the five of us Banikoara area volunteers decided to find a
taxi together. We would up smushing into the middle row of a three row station
wagon, with 4 adults and 4 kids under the age of 5 in the back, and three
adults in the front row with the driver. At 16 people in a station wagon, we
felt like we had reached capacity, even in Benin. But after about 20 minutes on
the road we slowed down almost to a stop and Camille and Suzanne, our two best
Bariba speakers started laughing. When Josh and I asked them what was funny,
they said that a man had approached the driver, and the driver had said in
Bariba, “Let’s go” and then the man jumped up on the roof with the luggage.
Sure enough when we looked back there was a pair of feet dangling from the
roof. All 17 of us made it to Banikoara with a good story to tell!
Coming back to post after visiting the workstation in Kandi
was a little bit of a transition. I journaled about that, and thought I would
share my thoughts with you now. I’ve been glad that I shared challenging
moments in the past, so here we are.
I wanted to talk a little about how life has been different
since I visited the workstation in Kandi. There it was cooler and cleaner, and
I ate delicious food, and listened to American music, and talked to other
Americans. I also spent almost the entire time on the internet – downloading
the new Mumford Album, and pulling other information like West African
Folktales, and posting to my blog, and posting pictures and emailing. It was
great. I also didn’t get very much sleep trying to fit everything in.
When I got back , the next morning I slept in and never
wound up leaving my house. Given, I did work. I worked on my compost pile and
read up on rabbit raising and studied Bariba. But still. The next day I was in
my house until mid afternoon when I finally got stir crazy and went for a
meeting with my homologue. For most of the day Tuesday I was just happy to be
in my house, studying and doing paperwork. I got worried that now that I’ve
seen how awesome it is to go to the workstation, I will just spend my time
waiting for the next time I get to go there. I certainly do look forward to
those trips a lot already. When does that become wishing your time away? Maybe
it’s when you look forward to those things more than you enjoy your daily life.
I certainly like my house, and I care about the people I interact with. I am
eagerly searching work opportunities but trying not to jump at every stray
opportunity.
Anyway, I did feel a lot better after I got out of the
house. On the way to the meeting I met someone who said they would teach me
Peuhl, one of the other local languages. (I haven’t followed up with them yet,
sometimes people make offers like that just to be friendly, still I’ve been
looking for someone who speaks both French and Peuhl.) On the way back I saw
the coiffure, or hair salon where one of the mamas in my concession works, and
I saw Sabi, the old man who sat next to me at church. The meeting itself was
less exciting. I got worried that I am becoming less of an exciting novelty.
Still, I did have work matters to discuss and it seemed to go well. I would
like to get working on an ongoing project. I’ve started messing with the school
garden a little, that’s good. I am also hoping to install a living fence (made
of trees) there. Soon I will be able to visit classes at each school and before
December 9th (when we have In Service Training) I would like to
guest lecture, at least a few times. Soon enough it will be mudstove building
season, and things seem to be going well with Gnon Tori (she worked on
mudstoves with the volunteer I am replacing). There is also the tree nursery
with Seidou, who knows what will happen with that. I guess we keep organizing and
keep on keeping on. It’s a challenge but I do feel lucky to be here.
A few days after I wrote that journal entry I got to share a
laugh with Gnon Tori. She has been helping me with Bariba, and that day I was
studying vocabulary on physical descriptions of people. While we were working a
man came by to talk to her briefly. As he was leaving Gnon Tori leaned over to
me and whispered, in Bariba, “He’s fat!” I appreciated the teachable moment. Do
remember that here it isn’t considered rude to comment on people’s physical
appearance, and actually being a little heavy means that you are well off and
haven’t been sick. She’s a good hearted person, that Gnon Tori. I think I like
her sense of humor.
Incidentally after the Bariba lesson we wound up sharing lunch.
And by sharing I mean eating off the same plate with our hands. I’m getting a
little better at not making a complete mess of myself when I eat with my hands
(though it’s taken me longer to learn than learning to eat with chopsticks!). I
was so grateful to share a meal with her.
So that was a positive experience, here’s a frusterating
one. A few days back I had been walking past the market with someone when a
woman selling food called out to great me. The person I was walking with said,
“Oh, that’s Foussena” and I looked over and believed it was the woman who wants
to raise rabbits. I think you can see where this is going. I actually stopped
by and made a point to great her and ask about the family, and the rabbits
after that. A few days later, my homologue Baron and I wanted to have a meeting
with Foussena. I told Baron she was selling food by the market. When we arrived
there I said hi to the woman and then Baron said, “Where’s Foussena?” I was
mortified to realize I had gotten her confused with someone else. I was so
embarrassed. Baron was very understanding about it and just said, “Yeah, in
Bariba there are a lot of women named Foussena.” Oy vey. Incidentally the real
meeting with the real Foussena did go well.
Another more positive anecdote: There have been a few people
who knew Summer well who have reached out to me. One girl, Mamato (MA-ma-toh) who goes to the local high school
even came by to say hi to me at my house. The other day I was walking through
the market with a very heavy canvas bag. Mamato saw me and said hi, and when
she saw that I was going home she offered to carry my bag. I automatically
refused, but she insisted. Truth be told, I had already been walking for 20
minutes or so, and I can’t say I wasn’t grateful for the help. We talked about
her English class and the school garden, and when we got to my house I was able
to give her some of the fried bread I had splurged on. I’m still grateful to
her.
I thought of another anecdote from a while ago that I didn’t
share before, but I found it funny and wanted to share it now. I hope I’ve
mentioned before that people are generally pretty willing to drop what they are
doing to help when someone needs it. That’s actually very well demonstrated in
the story with Mamato. I should also emphasize that kids do a lot of work. They
are sort of the first line of attack for any chores that need to be done.
Well one day I had been out all morning and didn’t arrive
back at my concession until after noon when the sun was already beating down
and it was very hot. I was tired after walking home and so raedy to sit down
and drink some water. I was surprised to find that when I got to the entrance
to my concession the door was closed. When I tried the handle and shook the
door a little it didn’t move. For a while I stood there and looked at the door,
trying to decide if I would go to some street food vendor to sit until someone
came home, or if I would just sit in front of the door. I even considered
trying to climb over the wall, but if nothing else that seemed like it would
attract a lot of attention. There was already a little kid standing watching me
deliberate. Then a man came up on a motorcycle and stopped in front of the
concession. I wasn’t really sure if he lived there or not (this was still early
on). The little kid stepped up and the two of them talked in Bariba a little
bit. I just stood there, totally passive in the heat. The man tried the door
and also tried the large metal gate next to it. Both were closed. Then the kid
climbed over the gate into the concession. I was so hot and tired it was all
good with me. The little kid and the man talked back and forth across the door
in Bariba. The kid couldn’t get the door open. Then he tried the gate. After
various metallic banging noises he couldn’t get that either. Then, because
there seemed like nothing else to try the man noticed a rope tied around the
gate and looped through part of the lock of the door. When he untied the rope
the door fell right open! I felt silly, but mostly I felt tired. So just as if
he and the little boy had just held the elevator door for me, I said thanks and
went inside.
Ok, that’s all the anecdotes that I have saved up for this
week. I did have one more thought that I wanted to share with you. I want to
talk a little more about when I first rode into Founougo. As I was riding in
that rickety peugot truck down the dirt road, I was hit by a thought that I
have often revisited since then. I kept thinking my whole life, I was always
going to come to Founougo. And the whole time Founougo has existed, I Was
always going to come here. You can take that as literally or as metaphysically
as you want to. I know it’s possible things won’t work out between me and
Founougo. And it’s always possible that some political unrest that never actually
affects the town itself could mean I have to leave, there are a hundred
unforeseeable circumstances. Heading towards Founougo for the first time almost
felt like a betrothal. I wondered if I would love the town right away, and new
it didn’t really matter, because I would slowly get to know the town and find
things that worked and come to love it little by little. That’s been true so
far. Even though there are a lot of things about being here that are hard, I
feel a sense of pride and even a little personal ownership for this town. I
certainly have some affection for it. And yeah, I keep coming back to this idea
that all my life I was always going to come here.
There are still some adjustments. I don’t think this entry
would be complete if I didn’t point out that it has been a whole month since I
have seen a movie. I don’t think that has ever happened before. At what age did
I start watching movies Mom and Dad? Still, all things are going pretty well.
The latrine is doing well, the well is doing well, the kitchen is great, and
I’m doing just fine.
Thanks for reading, and as the saying goes in Bariba, ‘May
God bestow spices upon you’.
With love,
Lauren
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