countdown

I've been in Cotonou for the past five days, first to drop off my parents at the airport, now to do the necessary paperwork to end my Peace Corps service. The latter requires that I spend most of my time at the Peace Corps office, and since the new group of Benin trainees arrived on July 4th, they've been in and out, getting their paperwork done too.

I keep catching myself eyeing them suspiciously. One among them will replace me in Tobre, and I'm scared to death that whoever it is will not appreciate the place as it should be appreciated. A part of me wants to send whoever is placed there threatening notes on scraps of paper - "Warning! If you refuse to shake Bonay's hand and buy him rice from time to time, I'll...!" or "If you don't learn to hang out with the neighbors and eat their food, I'll...!" The problem is, I can't think of a good threat, and even if I could it probably would be impossible to carry out, since I'll be in the USA.

Most likely though, whoever ends up in Tobre for the next two years will be awesome, accomplish a ton, and be loved by all. How could they not?

Those of you in Don Pedro have probably already heard first-hand about my parent's visit. It was great. I can only imagine how nice it will be to arrive home, and have my parents know what/who I'm talking about when I mention the words "zemidjan", "marche", "tissue", "Bariki", and "Roufai". Granted they were here for two weeks, while I was here for two years, there is still a lot that they can now understand and relate to. I was also forced to notice the things that have become routine and ordinary: a herd of goats tied on top of a taxi, topless women, the chaos of Cotonou, how angry I sound when bargaining a price (I promise its all part of the game!).

I was also forced to answer questions that, after two years, I've stopped asking. "Why do farmers use handplows?"
"Why were people singing and wailing in the middle of the night?"
"What are the positive effects of Islam that I've noticed?"
But I was also forced to realize that after my short time in Benin, I've somehow learned that many questions can't be answered with words. Its only after experiencing and witnessing life here that questions get set aside, and one somehow knows that being able to explain all that is going on is an impossible goal, and perhaps an irrelevant one.

But these types of musings are probably themselves impertinent, when the best parts of my parent's visit where:
1. Catching up with my parents, and doing our best to fit two year's worth of discussions into two weeks.
2. Playing spades until the wee hours of 10 pm, with my mom winning (almost)every time.
3. The extravagant welcome that people in Tobre gave my parents. We were given three dozen eggs, a chicken, a guinea fowl, and cheese (remember too that the world is in a food crisis). My dad was given a bushbuck hide. My mom was told she could bring my neighbor's baby back to the States (although I've been told the same thing). And besides the material gifts, people were all around pleasant, or in other words, their hospitable selves.
4. Seeing my parents and neighbors all dressed in matching waterballoon fabric. Comment dit-on "priceless"?

Their visit was a perfect way to end my time in Benin.

And now, I'm preparing to end my time here as well. As Monday night and my Air France flight time approaches, I've been thinking of what it might be like when I get back to California for good. Its pretty hard to imagine. And frankly, its pretty hard to come up with a good ending for this blog. There's no way to sum things up.

Mostly I want to thank anyone who's read whatever I've written, or sent letters, or prayed, or sent packages. Please be patient with me while I readjust back to the US, struggle to explain things, or act like a know-it-all.

I'm 100% against ending like this though, on such a melodramatic note. So here's a short list of things I'm pretty sure I'll miss about Benin:
1. Kids. Especially when they yell goodmorning while they're squatting for their morning doo-doo on a trash pile.
2. Knowing that there is never, ever a limit to what can be squeezed into or onto a vehicle.
3. Bargaining prices. Not only because I like to drive a hard bargain, but also because I enjoy the hundreds of opportunities every day to interact with strangers.
4. Being able to buy a meal (albeit not so delicious) for less than 25 cents.
5. Knowing that generally, anyone I run into will be friendly.
6. Tobre.

N'kwa weru et a bien tot!

C'est fini

This week I finished at school. I gave all my students back their final tests. I showed them all their grades. I returned my copies of the teaching texts. I passed out little business cards I made to all the other teachers, since I knew they would all demand my “contact”. I even trashed the eight notebooks I had filled with two years worth of lesson plans. And that’s that. Two years of teaching done. No more standing ovations each time I step into a classroom. No more having to hold up my hand and count down from five when the students get too rowdy (I never reached one, and I still have no idea what would have happened if I had). No more getting so angry with my fellow teachers about their inappropriate (in my opinion) behavior, that all I can muster the strength to do is storm off to my house. But also no more teaching sixty kids the Hokey Pokey, or laughing when they declare, “Madame! Jou are LUCKY!”

School finished just in time, as the rains really started doing their thing last week. Since over half the classes at our school are held in corrugated tin lean-tos, rain during class means canceling class. I love the rain here. I was just thinking about how weird cold rain seems now. I’ve really gotten used to expecting a relieving downpour at the end of an especially hot day. However, the rains also mean that we are really in the month of July, which means that my time in Benin is nearing an end.

I’ve never been a big fan of closing out big experiences with a list of ways in which one has changed. If the experience was important and big enough, there’s no way to sum it up in a list, or a paragraph, or even a blog. From what I know (which granted is not too much), big things will continue to affect and change a person for many years. Therefore, I will spare us all from any sort of attempt at soul-searching. Mostly, for those of you that will see me when I come home, just be prepared to not find coherent or summarizing responses when you ask me questions. I’m still just figuring it all out.

That being said, I am looking forward to coming home and sharing my photos, my stories, etc, with anyone who will listen. (Did I mention that I’ll be back in the USA around July 20th?)

But I guess I should back up. I’m not home yet, or even extremely close: there are still around three weeks left, all of which will be spent showing Benin off to my parents. They arrive tonight. I’m not the only one excited; all of Tobre has been revving themselves up for weeks about their visit. And their visit will most likely merit its own blog post.