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
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
posted by betsie at 12:57 AM
3 Comments:
betsie,
thanks for sharing your experience. its ok that you feel "served", thats often how peace core goes at first. I had a professor say that peace core is more beneficial for the volunteer than the community, and its not a bad thing! despite, i am sure you will find yourself useful when you begin ruling school with an iron fist!
miss you.
-jason
glad you got the package, Betsie, and great to hear that classes have started and you have gracious people to help you along! best wishes in understanding the things that you experience/see in Benin. i miss the call to prayers in the morning: "Prayer is better than sleep, prayer is better than sleep."
we are praying for your health and safety,
matt&patsy
What a really wonderful experience to get to know another culture first hand. Our way isn't always the best way, so maybe you can take a few things away with you, and leave a couple of practical things.
As for the nude people, that's really easy. They aren't ashamed of their bodies and boobs are for babies, not men. In America, nudity is one one hand titillating and on the other, taboo.
Though I admire you for what you are doing, my people have just been covering themselves up for so long that I'd freak if naked people were standing there talking to me. That's completely my opinion and in no way do I think traditional people from other cultures should be made to wear clothes like a westerner. In any event, I admire what you are doing, and please do stay safe.
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