Yup. TIA. THIS IS AFRICA. (8.31.12)

About 3 weeks ago now, early on a Saturday morning, I left to visit my post in Banikoara, and so the story begins. After triple checking to see if I had everything I could possibly need, and forgoing the majority of the things the Peace Corps recommended (malaria smear kit, medical handbook, safety and security handbook, trainee handbook, 4 full bottles of water and our kit to test for parasites- not fun), my host father and I were off for the bus stop before the sun was up or I was really awake- this changed quickly. The first lesson of the many I would learn on the trip; riding on the back of a motorcycle with a full pack on changes your weight distribution vastly. After almost falling off the back on the first jerk of the bike leaving the house, I was awake. We arrived at the bus station where a bunch of other sleepy volunteers also heading to the north greeted me and instructed me to have a seat- the Peace Corps, in an attempt to make sure we all made it on the bus, told us to get there 45 minutes before the bus would even arrive, overlooking the fact that the bus was likely running on Beninoise time, and we were still on American time.

To our excitement after 45 minutes the bus promptly showed up, and we eagerly slung our packs on and made our way to the bus noting that none of the Beninoise around us had moved- including our homologues who were taking us to our post after our 2 day training together. They gestured to us to sit back down, which we obediently did after the bus driver just waged his finger at us when we attempted to board. Giving in to the fact that we had no idea or control over the situation we sat down and waited for further instruction. Soon after, a miniature bus, or slightly-larger-than-normal van, depending on your nationality arrived- for that people moved as though a building was on fire, I sadly did not make this van, but my homologue told me to be ready, another would come. Sure enough another van rolled up and this time I ran to get to the front, threw my pack on the roof and elbowed my way into the even smaller van, securing my seat. After further battling to win their seats other volunteers, homologues, and random Beninoise whom I had the fortune of sharing this morning with slowly made their way to their seats- babies and baggage on laps. And then we waited. And then we waited some more- the smell, heat and general lack of personal space were slowly wearing on me- this was going to be a long trip and it hadn’t even started yet. Finally, the chauffer came back to try to argue with myself and the other volunteers that there was space for at least one more person- our adamant rejection of this being a remote or scientific possibility seemed to amuse the host country nationals in the car. We were not so amused. Meanwhile a fight had broken out in the other van and in the midst of the shouting match everyone unloaded out of that van and got into the still empty bus, filling the large bus with the same number of people, at which point we were instructed to unload our van and move to the now empty vehicle.

3 hours later we were all in vehicles, and on our way to Parakou, my first stop on the way to Banikoara. After the initial drama the rest of the ride went pretty smoothly, we were still packed in; I still had small children hanging over me, making sure to spill whatever they were eating throughout the various points of the trip on my once blue shirt. After about a 6 hour drive we had arrived in Parakou where we stayed for the night at a missionary couple’s house and enjoyed the blessing that is Marie Antoinette’s, a real Italian restaurant. The voyage the following day was fairly uneventful, we piled into a 15 person van and were off- of course making many stops on the way to buy various goods- which was annoying to the stagiers who didn’t know any better yet. The van only sort- of-broke down once due to overheating,  but it was conveniently by a restaurant around lunch time, it was also at this point that I realized that the very hot engine under me that was starting to burn the bottom of feet had begun to melt my motorcycle helmet resting on the ground- opps.

At our posts, we were all required to stay with a new host family to continue our “cross- cultural” learning. I was staying with the equivalent of the vice principle of the equivalent of a high school, Denis and his family, which was pretty fortunate. Other than his wife being sick, which made me feel slightly guilty for taking up his and the other family members’ time, my living situation with this host family was nice- the house was slightly smaller than my house in Porto Novo, and didn’t have running water or an indoor bathroom, but it still had electricity, I still had my own room with a DOUBLE bed, and the wife happens to be an excellent cook and Denis is a great friend and tour guide.

Getting out of the big city brought on a whole host of new adjustments and experiences for me and my body, which resulted in a lot of moments of saying TIA, This Is Africa, to myself and making a mental note to add to my blog, 3 weeks and lots of TIA moments later we will see how I do.

Within the first day, something made my stomach unhappy- something that seems inevitable here but also so much more inconvenient in Africa. Unfortunately for me, my stomach decided to make its discontent known to me around 3am. In households without toilets, there is usually either a family latrine (locked and only used by the family) or public latrines. My family had a family latrine which was good in the sense that they are far more sanitary, but not so good in the sense that not only was I going to have to try to quietly walk through the living room in the pitch black where everyone else was sleeping to get out, but also climb over one of the mattresses and people to get to the key. The latrine was about 200 yards from the house on a dirt path and around some tall grass- also problematic for me. As it had been raining all night and I had learned earlier that day that in a mud v. flip flop scenario, mud would win here, and my general fear that the spot light of my headlamp was not big enough to identify potential snakes in the grass (yes this is what I think of) this all was going to be very challenging. Deciding against making this a production I opted for the Imodium for the angry stomach and some Benadryl- to knock me out and hoped for the best in the morning. A week of Imodium roulette and getting to know the cockroaches of the latrine quite well- to the point where they didn’t really move when I got in there but instead seemed to stand by almost sympathetically waiting for me to leave, I finally adjusted to the bacterias of Banikoara and carefully stored my remaining two Imodium pills. Yes Africa does weird things to the mind- like finding solace in the apparent sympathy of your resident latrine cockroaches. Like most things here, some of the most amazing experiences seem to come hand in hand with the worst and departing the latrine late one night I happened to look up before making my way back to the house and there I stood memorized seeing more stars more brilliant than I have ever seen, and the greatest gift of all- aurora borealis. It was incredible, I stayed transfixed on the stars until the smell of the latrine behind me and the rustling in the grass reminded me it was late and time to go back inside.

My first week at post was very busy, I drove around getting to know the town, the markets, local officials, more or less tribal leaders (including the Chief or King of Banikoara), the mayor- who I will technically be working for, the work I will be doing, my counterparts, and the volunteer I will be replacing. I was lucky enough to not only have a volunteer in my post before me who furnished the house and was leaving behind lots of books and wisdom for me but also who is going on to do a third year with the Peace Corps in Cotonou. Although the Peace Corps recommended we not spend too much time with the Volunteers who we were replacing, spending time with her gave me the opportunity to gain valuable insight into the quirks and personalities within the community. It seems I have some very big shoes to fill, which is both exciting for me and makes apprehensive to find out what kind of volunteer I will end up being.

Banikoara is the commune head of the commune of Banikoara, as such it is more like the city to the small villages around it, but is in reality a big town. There is one paved road that runs through it and continues all the way to the neighboring commune of Kandi – which is where my Peace Corps Workstation is located- this makes travel pretty easy for me (comparatively).  Everything else is dirt road and it is small enough to walk most of it. There is a cyber café, lots of bouvettes, a church, several mosques, a stadium- which is a good place to run when I want to get away from traffic, but also makes it easy for my workout to become a spectator sport for the locals, a few small restaurants and a hotel with a swimming pool currently being constructed. There is a big market in the town every four days and a small everyday market as well as a grocery store with canned goods, that being said the variety of fruits and vegetables is limited as the climate in Banikoara is very desert like and after seeing the market I understand why we stopped so many times on the way up to buy produce.

People who work in the formal sector (very few) or who have gone to school speak French but a majority of farmers, venders and other workers really only speak Barriba which means I will need to learn at least how to greet people and negotiate in Barriba. There is also a group of people in Banikoara known as the Phole, who speak Fulani, but they are more or less removed from the society as a whole. The work in Banikoara is more than 80% agriculturally based and it is the largest producer of cotton (the country’s largest export) in Benin. I will be working for the office of the Mayor but will be working closely with an “NGO” that works on sanitation and clean drinking water projects with funding from the Mayor’s Office, to help them with financial management. Additionally, after a meeting at the Mayor’s Office I was informed of some of the secondary projects they would like to see me work on which include working with a women’s group with the production of Shea and moringa, other small garden groups with product diversification, financial management and access to markets, teaching financial literacy classes to about 300-500 community members, hosting a radio show on financial literacy in Barriba (ha!), working with the students to help encourage entrepreneurship through English and business clubs, sensibilizations on the use of clean water and private latrines as well as sanitation practices in bouvettes and more, in other words I have plenty of work if I want it.

I also got to see the house where I will be living in for the next two years, and was able to confirm that I am a lucky participant of the posh corps. I live in a compound with the electricity company- which makes paying my electrical bill pretty simple- but since my neighbor is an important company, I also inherit 2 security guards who protect the property 24 hours a day. They technically are not responsible for my house, but as my house is literally connected to the office of the electrical company, it would probably take more work to actively not guard my house as well, so as long as I remain a good neighbor I think I am set. The house itself is HUGE I have a master bedroom, a guest room, a giant living room space, and a giant kitchen, indoor toilet and…shower!!! So I really have nothing to complain about, except for one detail. In my training I learned I am actually prohibited from getting a goat as a pet as a volunteer, so I was planning on have a “neighbor” with a pet goat instead, but sharing a compound with an electrical company makes this unlikely. As a pet goat was the number 1 thing I talked about before leaving for Benin, this is an unfortunate development but at the moment I am willing to trade the goat for electricity and running water.

My two weeks at post were the first time I wasn’t with Peace Corps staff, thus it was my first opportunity to experience time as it is understood by the Beninoise. I like it. When the people here talk about Americans they always say “time is money” and then usually laugh. I didn’t get why this stuck with them as much as it did until I understood how much time is not money to the Beninoise. My days would usually consist of getting to the office around 9, if it wasn’t raining- if it’s raining you stay home until it stops, whenever that may be- I would work with my host organization in some capacity until around noon, then my work day was over and I would go home to eat lunch, nap and hang out with the family. To the Beninoise, personal relationships are more important and defining than the work you do- as an American, I am going to need to try to bury my type A personality deep inside me if I want to be successful in the community.

At the end of the two weeks, it was time to make the journey back to Porto Novo with a pit stop in Kandi to meet up with the other stagiers in the region to travel back together and to meet the current volunteers serving in the area. After two weeks of almost no English it was nice to see familiar faces and share battle stories over some beers and chili. The next morning we woke up early to take a taxi we prearranged to take us back to Porto Novo, but when the taxi arrived he had another person with him, after 45 minutes and much arguing over the lack of space in the car and the fact that we had paid extra to make sure this didn’t happen he agreed the other man wouldn’t come with us, we felt victorious. That was until we saw the other man giving our driver directions to Porto Novo, not good. There are two ways to get back down south from the north, there is a road that goes through Porto Novo and another that goes through Cotonou, during the rainy season most traffic goes through Porto Novo because the road to Cotonou is in bad shape, our driver didn’t know the road to Porto Novo nor was he interested in looking at the map with us, so we took the bad road. After a long and bumpy ride with one near miss of a traffic accident it was getting dark and we were not near home so we decided to call Peace Corps for further direction as we are not supposed to travel at night. It was decided that we were to stop in Cotonou to be safe, we were excited, this meant we were going to get fancy American food in the big capital city. And that is exactly what we did, a calzone and a bottle of wine later, I was enjoying the company of current volunteers who were in town and happily decompressing after a long day on the road. The next day, after three days of traveling, I finally was back in Porto Novo.