finally

It is hard to know where to begin. So hard, in fact, that the task almost seems impossible. But I have discovered the secret benefits of keeping a blog, which include packages of precious goods from old college professors (Thanks so much Prof. [Calderon] Lloyd!). Thus for your sake and mine I will do my best.

I have been in Tobre for the last month. Thanks to some minor health problems, which I won’t go into online, I was able to go to the nearest big town and use the internet for the weekend, stock up on some bature (white person) goods, and hang out with some fellow volunteers. But besides this little trip, I have been in Tobre. School began last week, and by that I mean that I began holding classes. I think only one other teacher has begun. The official school calendar states that school began on October 2nd, but this really means that the students began clearing all the brush and bush away from around the school. It also means they had to chop down some trees to build some more “classrooms” – tin awnings held up by the chopped down trees. The last I heard there were no desks and no blackboards for these classes, but things seem to come together in strange ways here, so I’m not too worried.

Mostly though, I have been doing my best to learn to navigate village life. Everyone speaks Bariba. Not only to each other, but also to me, even when it is obvious that I don’t understand. One thing I do understand though, is the name I’ve been given: Guannigui. It is the name given to princesses (and don’t picture Sleeping Beauty when you think of an African princess). I also understand most greetings here, which is good since greeting everyone you see is a moral obligation. I spend a lot of time with the royal family, who I share a courtyard with. I’m still unclear on what it means to be royal here, but that is no surprise since I’m unclear on most things. They help me with the language, they let me make their teenaged neice get water for me, they wash my clothes for me, they answer most of my questions, they bring me food and I do my best to reciprocate by giving them loafs of banana bread that I bake when I’m bored.

For your sake, I could try to describe Tobre. I could talk about the topless women, the naked kids, the cows and chickens and goats running around, the Muslim call to prayer at 5 am, the market days, the red dirt, the facial scarring, the interesting food. But I don’t feel at liberty to really go in-depth since at this point I really don’t understand what’s going on. By saying there are naked kids, I don’t want to send the impression that the kids are suffering for a lack of clothes. Maybe its just hot here and there’s no need for them. But then again, maybe it is an indicator of a need. I just don’t know yet. So forgive me for refraining for a little while from painting the sorts of pictures of Africa that are typically painted while I try know what is really happening.

To be honest, I have been on the receiving end of it all. By all appearances, it looks like I came here to be served and cared for, not the other way around. I depend completely upon the people around me for just about everything, since I’m completely uneducated as far as village life goes.

While it is frighteningly easy to get into a funk, and dream about burritos and caramel macchiatos and fall fashion (not to mention hugs from my family or understanding the language being spoken), it is important to remember that I’ve only been in Tobre for a month and that there’s no way to really love and appreciate a place in that short amount of time. I pray for patience towards myself as I adjust to life here. To borrow the words of a certain college pastor, I am “fundamentally sound”. And even more than that – I’m doing well. There is a lot to learn, a lot to discover, and a lot to understand. After one month, the party has b

from a month ago

I wanted to post this a month ago, but the internet wasn't working:

I’m writing this on a Wednesday afternoon, and by this time Sunday I will be finished with Pre-Service Learning, I will have taken the Peace Corps oath and be deemed an official Peace Corps volunteer, I will have packed up my room here in Djougou, squeezed its contents into a bush taxi (which I will be sharing with another volunteer and all her stuff), and be on my way to my post in Tobre. Hopefully I will have finished up my shopping, which should happen since all I still need is instant coffee, clothespins, a head scarf, condensed milk, and butter. Hopefully I will also have worked up the energy to do my laundry before I pack it, but the temptation of waiting until I get to my post, and then paying a petit (child) to do it is strong.

I am very glad to be wrapping up PSL. Our swearing-in ceremony is on Friday, and I’ve been told that I should expect TV cameras, an appearance by the US Ambassador, and lots of speeches. Among those speeches are some given by those of us swearing in, either in local languages or in French. The two people giving a short speech in French are the two people from the TEFL group who made the biggest advancement in their French proficiency, so that means – drumroll please – I will be giving the speech. My “prize” for moving from novice-low to advanced-mid in nine weeks is giving a two minutes speech, which I’m hoping will end up on Beninese TV. This could be my big break, guys, so when I get offered a job as a news reporter, or, say, a place in the ministry of education, don’t be surprised.

But in all likelihood, I will be in Tobre for the next two years, teaching English and doing anything else worthwhile that comes my way, instead of becoming a West African celeb. And that is fine with me. I’m ready to start doing what I came here to do. I’m ready to schmooze it up with the mamans and tantes in the market. I’m ready to figure out how to use teaching English as a vehicle to address other issues, such as gender equality and HIV/AIDs. I’m ready to become so invested in my students that it hurts. I’m ready to cook my own meals and divvy up the chores I don’t like doing among the kids in my concession (such as collecting water and doing laundry). I’m ready to learn to speak some Bariba, perfect my French (advanced-mid is still a long way from Fluent). Basically, I’m ready to begin.

Officially beginning my career as a volunteer also means upping moving further away from home. Although I’ll only be a couple hundred kilometers from where I am right now, it will feel much further. Communication with home will be limited greatly, considering there is no telephone, post office, or internet in my village. My request is this: don’t stop sending me emails or letters. I will do my utmost to keep my family and friends in the know, but I need to have a pile of letters and a list of emails waiting for me everytime I have a chance to check. Please, it is for my emotional health. Bravo to those of you who have done such an excellent job of making me feel loved and important for the past nine weeks.

And another request: pray for me and for my community as we get to know each other. That we will both be fair and kind in our judgments of one another. That we will be gracious and generous. That we will also be honest, not pretending that we have things (knowledge, abilities, understanding) that we don’t. That we will be accepting and trusting. I think if these things were to happen, my first few months at post will be some of the most exciting and informative of my life.