Baking in Benin

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Hello Everyone,

I hope you all are doing well as summer starts in America. The rainy season is starting here, bringing some cooler days. We are all pretty happy about that.

Last weekend I got to make a quick trip to the Peace Corps Workstation in Kandi to celebrate the end of service for our two second-year volunteers in our region, the Alibori. Nina, one of the two, held a party in her village and cooked up a huge amount of potato salad, Chinese noodles, and some pork, with the help of one of her work partners. I thought it was really touching, the way that people got so dressed up, as if it was a real Beninese party, like a wedding. It is always encouraging to see when a community gets to show thanks for a volunteer. The party was a lot of fun.

In the change over of odds-and-ends that happens when volunteers close service, I picked up, among other things, a one-a-day Origami calendar, which I have been using with the kids in my compound. So far we have made newspaper hats (thank you, Dedham Times) and flower like pendants (thanks for the colorful church pages, Aunt Gerry). Doing origami with kids makes me think of my second grade teacher, Mrs. Reagan. I still remember how to make the type of origami hat that she taught us how to make for Children’s Day. Lucky for me, the kids here seem to really like the origami too!

The yet greatest moment of culture sharing this week happened just yesterday. But it all started with a social blunder a few months back. Months ago, I mentioned on my blog that one of Founougo’s Delegates had suffered the tragedy of losing his adult son. Now I’m not very good on the phone in French, and I definitely wasn’t then. The Delegate called and said something like, “About the meeting for the day after tomorrow; my son has died.”

I said, “Oh, I am so sorry.      ….So. [just to be clear] We aren’t having the meeting?”

“My son is dead!”

Needless to say I felt awful. It was a moment of communication failure. So, I did what I think any culturally Irish Catholic girl (or Pennsylvanian for that matter) would do, and baked him some Peanut Butter Bread.

When I talked to the Delegate, he said he was sorry he was so curt on the phone. That was more than understandable, and I said I was sorry for the bad communication, and I gave him the peanut butter bread. He loved it! He shared some with a friend that was there, and with his wife. They later joked that he hid the rest of it so that he wouldn’t have to share. His wife (who I happen to go to church with) was really interested in learning to bake it, and said that other women at the church were too.

It was only this week that we got all of our ducks in a row, and Wednesday morning 10 church ladies and I met for a cake baking demonstration. We made peanut butter bread and mango bread on charcoal stoves. They both were big successes, disappearing in minutes. The women contributed key ingredients like eggs, flour and mangoes, while I brought the remaining ingredients and my cooking utensils (they provided the charcoal and stoves). I also wrote up a French copy of both of the recipes for each of them.

That baking demonstration was possibly the most fun thing I have done with Beninese people so far. I got to share something that I already enjoy doing, and teach them something new that they wanted to learn. It was so fun to sit with them and enjoy their banter. Looking around the circle of the ten women I realized that I knew at least a little bit about almost every one of them.

Of course, it wasn’t all picture perfect. Our second charcoal stove got too hot, and my cheaper, back-up metal pot actually cracked. I wasn’t very upset about the pot, but I was embarrassed. I did remind myself that it was an honest mistake. I don’t usually cook with charcoal, and I had seen that the stove was too hot, and tried to bring down the temperature. Apparently the adjustments were not enough and were too late. Still, the women seemed to understand all of this too, and they didn’t seem to hold it against me.

When all the crumbs had been eaten or tucked away for later, Mama Chanelle, Mama Dorcas and the others thanked me, calling me Mama too, and helped me wash down the cooking materials and pack up. It was hard for me to convey how much the pleasure really was mine. Who knows, maybe I will be eating peanut bread at one of their houses someday!

In work news, I am finally getting some good contacts that should be able to help me sustainably ship solar lights here. So that is moving forward.

Next week is Girls Camp in Kandi. Some 30 secondary school girls from around the Alibori region will be coming for 5 days of camp. I have volunteered to co-lead the craft sessions: friendship bracelets, recycled purses, and Papier Mache. In past weeks I have been nervous about the camp, but as I practice the crafts a little bit, I am getting more and more excited. It’s also good to have origami in my back pocket if all else fails! I look forward to letting you know how it goes.

I know that Father’s Day was last Sunday, and I would like to end this post by wishing a Happy Father’s Day to my Dad, my Granddad, and any and all other dads reading this blog. My thoughts are with my Dad, who has been an endless source of support, enthusiasm, encouragement, and copies of the Dedham Times, during these many months of my Peace Corps service. And my thoughts are with my Granddad who has been a generously enthusiastic follower of this blog, and another wonderful source of encouragement and support during my service. Your love and attentiveness has meant so much to me, and I am glad to get a moment to thank you for it. I love you guys!

The gratitude for support and interest goes out to all of you who are reading this post. I am so glad I get to share my experiences with you!

Thanks for reading,

With love,

Lauren