September 12 - Thoughts Before Swear-In

Meant to post this about a month ago, but haven't had internet - so here you go!

Tomorrow morning, I and the 64 others in our training group will board a bus for the Ambassador’s house in Cotonou.  There, our trainers, Peace Corps staff, host families, and all of Benin (or anyone who is interested in watching the televised broadcast, anyway) will watch us take our oaths to become official Peace Corps volunteers.  The past four weeks since our post visits have gone by very fast.  We’ve been doing technical training – for us Environmental Action volunteers, this has meant learning gardening techniques, how to build improved woodburning stoves out of mud, how to set up a tree nursery and graft and plant trees, and how to conduct environmental education activities in schools.  Our training was a mix of classroom and hands-on activities, and we paid several visits to a village near Porto Novo for practical experience working with gardeners and building mud stoves.  We also had a group of students come to our training site, to let us practice delivering environmental education lessons.  I wish I’d stayed more up to date on blogging these past weeks, but hopefully you’ll get to learn about all of the things we learned in more depth when I actually implement them at post.  

The morning after our swear-in ceremony we leave very early in the morning to move to our posts.  Many of us feel sort of the same right now as when we left the United States for Benin.  Nervous and apprehensive, but also happy and excited.  We’ve been in Benin for about two and a half months now.  While new things happen every day, a lot of things about living here have already become normal, second nature.  Here are a few small things that were new in June, but now seem normal to me.  

Speaking French, and learning second language(s) like Bariba and Fulani in French.

Waking up to the sounds of chickens and turkeys in the yard.

Gingerly eating fish with all its bones in it.  It’s a bit like taking a mouthful of food with lots of needles in it, sorting them out in your mouth, and spitting them out without getting pricked.  

Buying an entire pineapple, cut into chunks and served in a little black plastic bag with a toothpick, for less than 25 cents.  Eating said entire pineapple with great joy.

Buying a satisfying lunch of rice, beans, and sauce from a mama at the side of the street for 50 cents.  You tell her how much you want to pay, in this case 200 francs (about 50 cents), and she serves it to you on a plastic plate.  You sit on a bench near her stall and eat it right there.  

Taking a morning commute that involves hailing a zemidjan (motorcycle taxi), negotiating the price (usually 200 or 250 francs), and riding through crowded mud streets, around puddles of muddy water, to a chorus of “Yovo! Yovo!”  from passers-by.  

Letting a zemidjan go, refusing to ride, even if I’m late, if he refuses to go down 50 francs (the equivalent of 10 cents).  

Watching Brazilian soap operas, dubbed into French, with my host family every weeknight – and hanging on every word.

Seeing vendors carrying everything from shirts to oranges to dvds on their heads.