IST

Interservice Training has been super boring and also awesome. We've been able to all see each other and hang out with dance parties on the roof of Songhai and Israelis, moto crashes, project designing tools, local language practice, practice sensibilizations, and very couth evenings of johnny walker red and coke. I must say it's been practical and interesting and amusing. Imorou is definitely the homologue who walks the walk and talks the talk which is not always as awesome as it sounds.

I had forgotten how muggy and humid it is in the south. it sucks. i had also forgotten how to discuter zem prices and deal with the super aggressiveness of the fon people. i miss djougou and my bed and shower although we are sleeping in air conditioning now.

i saw the host family and had more conversation with them than i did in like the 9 weeks i actually lived with them. i think my french has definitely improved ou bien i am just less terrified of speaking now and making crazy mistakes.

So I'd like to type more about this bountiful week but all i can think about is the fact that colt is on a plane right now getting ready to land in new york...and then he'll be IN BENIN with MEEEEE in like a day and a half (ok, it's precisely 31 and a half hours not like I'm counting down or anything).

We are going on safari, and rocking it in djougou and having soooo much...FUN!

So, yeah, I probably won't update or be on facebook or talk to another human being until 2011. So, sorry in advance and HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

love and miss you all, please send letters and chocolate,
xoxo
e

Coke and Development Economics

11/04/10

Right now I am at a buvette drinking a coke and listening to some bollywood music under a huge mango tree. It is still light outside, but it won't be for too much longer; the sun sets early here. I am sitting by myself which is considered totally weird to the Beninese. If I wasn’t looking very busy scribbling in this notebook I would probably be hit on at a rate of like 4 men an hour. On second thought, I’m not sure the notebook makes a difference…

A few weeks ago I was here with Doug when we found out about the 5 year old who drowned in the well and for some reason I can’t help but think of that every time I am at this buvette, even if just for a brief moment.

Damn, I wish I had a diet coke instead of this delicious regular one. I miss those. When I get back to the states, I am going to drink one every day! Oh wait…

In the spirit of keeping you all informed and aware of my life, I suppose I will describe the scenery here while I wait for my dinner of couscous and spicy omelette.

Inevitably the scene changes whenever I show up. It’s calm here I imagine, before I arrive; the people all clustered around the mango and guava trees, nursing their bottles of Beninese brews. They talk quietly in French and local language about whatever it is that they talk about. I get there, though, and the charm is temporarily broken. The kids start screaming ‘batouré, batouré!’ Women come up with things for sale on their heads: bananas, fish, fried bread with spicy sauces. Men try to get my number or sell me phone credit, leather shoes, or knockoff sunglasses called Ray Bon’s. I greet them all, tell them to go away, and sit while the scene slowly goes back to something akin to what is was before.

I can never really just disappear, to slide into anonymity and just observe some moment here; wherever I go is shaped by my presence. The closest I get to being invisible is when I wear a headscarf like the Muslim women and a long skirt, but even then people do double takes. I get hit on a lot less that way, though.

My homologue, Imorou, calls me and decides to come meet me. He shows up and we get to talking. We speak franglais, my favorite foreign langue parceque I parler it so bien. Imorou is getting better at it, but still has trouble mixing French and English together in one sentence. He laughs when I talk about wanting to ‘manger something.’ We talk easily, Imorou and me. We discuss malaria for a bit and the politics of racism, a discussion that he hold mostly in French and I in English, but we each understand the other. I admit to him that I get angry and frustrated by the indifference that most of the world has for Africa.

‘Me, too,’ he says simply, taking a sip from his soda and leaning back in his chair.

I get to thinking about my purpose here as I am wont to do on hot, African evenings. I guess I thought that I would have had more inspiration living here, more insight into solutions, but honestly I am just more confused.

I see poverty, sure. It’s everywhere, ubiquitous. Dirt roads, mud houses, walls in disrepair, trash everywhere, dirty clothes, beggars. I guess when everyone is poor it becomes the average and there isn’t anything unique about it anymore. I don’t even think about it most days. People get by, same as anywhere. Things are different, sure. Few people have THINGS like cars, refridgeraters, ovens. Is that what poverty is? Not having an oven?

I make 90 mille a month which is less than 200 dollars US, and honestly that is not very much money at all; it wasn’t enough to buy a fridge (100 mille!). It’s not much more than most people here make, either. Imorou makes way more than that. Hell, most zemidjans make more than that if they aren’t being lazy.

I’m not sure what my point is. Clearly people in Africa don’t have a lot. The richest person in Djougou makes like 1 percent of the income of a poor American. I’m struggling because I’m really having a hard time seeing how it matters. If women are having healthy babies with few complications why does it matter that the health center is unairconditioned? Or if kids are going to school why does it matter that they had to walk 2 miles to get there? If all the kids do it and are fine?

But here’s the thing: not all pregnancies ARE healthy and not all kids DO go to school. Sure it’s like that in the states, too, but it’s normal here, it’s more common here for a woman to die of post birth hemorrhaging and for thirteen year old girls to drop out of school so they can take care of their younger brothers and sisters. There is malnutrition and suffering and unclean, unsafe working conditions. Just because I’ve gotten desensitized to 8 year olds walking 10 kilometers barefoot doesn’t mean the kid couldn’t use some shoes. Just because no one is complaining that they make one dollar a day doesn’t mean they’re living easy.

People here work HARD, too. I didn’t visit the health center for almost a week and when I saw it yesterday there was a new, huge cement wall painted and complete around the entire center. I am constantly noticing new buildings, new businesses, new mamans selling street food. Things change and evolve here so quickly I am constantly surprised by the work ethic, especially since I’ve always been told that people here are hyper laid back or even lazy. That is just flat out not true, at least not in my experience. So why the fuck are people still dying from tuberculosis?? Is it just money? Benin already relies heavily on foreign aid; it’s like 80 percent of the GDP or something. Throwing more foreign aid can’t possibly be the solution, but hell, maybe it is. Jeffrey Sachs, my once favorite economist says that is indeed the answer. More money, more money. I really want to see change from within the country, though. Work ethic is good, sex relations are bad…women are not particularly valued economically. Maybe there’s something there that needs exploring, I don’t know.

I don’t know. Is education the answer? Yes, probably. That and a little bit of everything else. There’s no way that just giving more money to the government could be the answer, is it? Just a few more billion…clean up the streets, create some jobs, make sure kids are sleeping under mosquito nets. Fuck, I really don’t know. I am not an economist, I’m not even really an international aid worker. I’m just a health volunteer who feels underutilized doing a job I’m not sure about in a country that I’m not even sure wants my help or even needs it.

This was not supposed to be a rambling attempt to understand the role of foreign assistance in fighting poverty in Benin…but oh well. Hopefully some of this stuff will get a little clearer before I have to write my personal statement for medical schools. All I can say now is ‘um, yeah, so I do something one might call ‘work’ in an African health center…and maybe Jeffrey Sachs is wrong,’ which I don’t think is going to quite land me an interview at Northwestern.

Imorou doesn’t really seem to have any answers either. When he mentions colonialism all I can think about is how America was once a colony, too, but I don’t have the guts yet to say it out loud. I think I might have heard that on the West Wing anyway and I wouldn’t want to pass off Aaron Sorkin’s ideas as my own.

So we lapse into silence or move onto another idea, leaving Africa’s problems to the diplomats and politicians at least for tonight. I go back to watching the goats and chickens under the mango tree while the sun sets and I finish my coke.

A Cockroach story

Sunday, August 29th, 2010

Yesterday the Peace Corps gave all of us trainees an official memo declaring that we were not allowed to attend the Akon concert that evening because of unspecified specific security and safety concerns for us. I had already decided to not go because it would have been super awkward with just my papa, but even so I was a little bit irritated that they waited until the day of the concert to actually forbid us from going. What if people already had tickets? I know current volunteers went, though, despite the strong suggestion that they not go as well.

So I’m back in Porto Novo and week 7 is just getting ready to start. We meet our counterparts/homologues/work partners tomorrow at Songhai in the afternoon. This is a person that we are assigned to work with in our partner institution. For example, because I am working with PSI, my work partner will be someone who works in the same building as me, doing basically the same kind of work I’ll be doing. They may or may not have more authority at work than we will, but they definitely know more about the place. On a work related note, I apparently have air conditioning at my office. Awesome. But at the same time, the girl I am replacing was telling me yesterday that she didn’t have a lot of room to pick her own projects, that PSI really just gave her a very structured work environment. That is a bit of a bummer for me. Usually RCH volunteers have buckets of free time and really need to be self motivated. Since motivation is not exactly a trait I lack, I could do very well in an unstructured environment. I mean, I know I’ll do fine with heavy structure, too, I think I just would have preferred more freedom in the selection of my projects. But. My house and living arrangements are going to be so awesome that I feel like I’m not allowed to complain and everyone insists that I can do a secondary project with a midwife if I want. So, we’ll see.

And on va voir really soon, because Wednesday we are shipping out to go on our post visit. As usual, the Peace Corps hasn’t really given us much information on what to expect at post visit or what we’ll be doing or where we’ll be staying or any other seemingly important logistical stuff that we’d like to know more than two days in advance like how we’re getting there in the first place. So somehow at sometime on Wednesday with some unknown number of other people I will be taking the 8 odd hour trip up to Djougou. I think I’ll be going with my new work partner. I know I’ll be there four nights and that I’ll be shown around town and the office and hopefully have a chance to get some stuff for the house if I need it. My buddy, Josh, who will be up in Boukoumbe (boo-KOOM-bay) offered to give me a Teflon frying pan, so that’s one nice kitchen item I won’t have to buy at Erevan. Depending on how big it is, I’ll probably get another one. I like having a big one and a littler one. I think I’m going to make a detailed list about the things I need for the kitchen as well as the rest of the house while I’m up there. I’m pretty sure I’ll be staying in the house during those days; if they say no, I’ll probably just insist that I get to. I really need some alone time haha

I feel quite a bit better health wise, but not really at 100%. To a certain extent, I don’t think I will feel fully recovered while in Africa. There’s parasites and amoebas and bacteria in pretty much everything and basically you just get used to feeling sort of icky all the time. Cara, a volunteer up north, was telling me that some volunteers are just plain rude to other people who are sick because it’s just something you have to get used to and deal with. Of course serious illnesses are a different story, but the sort of general gastrointestinal discomfort we’ve all been having on and off for the last 7 weeks is just something that will get easier to handle the longer we experience it. I don’t know, the idea of some new, strange African creatures living in my gut really freaked me out at first; I was committed to boiling and filtering all my water no matter how clean it looked for my entire service, but more and more I’m finding that I can see myself being a little more lax like the other volunteers have gotten over the years. I mean, I’ve been super diligent about it and I’m still sick all the time, so as long as I have pipe water and not a well, I don’t see anything wrong with skipping the boiling step. It takes like 10 hours for the water to cool down afterward anyway and during Chaleur I don’t think the water will cool down for days. Although, I will probably have a fridge which will help. I haven’t decided yet and I’ll probably boil for a while at post just to be safe. But damn, I’m pretty lazy, and if PSI has me working hard all day in the office, I’ll be tired, too! Haha

So I thought I’d end this entry with a little story. Yesterday I woke up, used the bathroom and showered and then came back into my bedroom to find a cockroach up on his back, legs wiggling madly in the middle of the room. Because I was running late and I remembered that the last time this scenario had presented itself resulted in the death of and easy removal by broom of the cockroach, I simply left for school and decided to deal with it later. Well, later arrived and I was still too tired and lazy. So I decided that the corpse (I checked it by blowing on it; it was dead) could probably hang out in my room overnight and I’d sweep my room in the morning while I did all my other cleaning chores. This morning I arose and looked for the broom, but when I returned, the dead cockroach was no where to be found. At first I thought, “holy shit, the blow test didn’t work!” and assumed he had somehow flipped back over and scurried away to continue his life. But I found that implausible, especially since as I peered down to his final resting place I noticed something very strange and disturbing. Laying there, in the very place his body had been just the night before, were two dismembered appendages of said cockroach. Instantly I knew what had happened. Sometime in the night, some other critters or creatures unknown surreptitiously entered my bedroom and mutilated the body of the recently deceased insect and either carted away or consumed them while I slept peaceful nearby, blissfully unaware. Ok, eww. There are four possibilities for the perpetrators. One, one cockroach or several other cockroaches have turned cannibalistic. Two, one of those giant flat spiders came out of hiding for a tasty treat. Three, lizards. I’ve seen them in my room in the evenings and they look like cockroaches would be their fav. Four, and this is the most likely of them all… ants. Yes, ants. Jess Bruce recounted a story to me about a dead cockroach being carted off by a colony of ants while she was living here. Because of the eerie similarity between the two situations, I cannot help but lean in the direction of the ants. But damn, why did they not want the arms?!

This is my entertainment, people. This is what I have become! Where is that biochem text book??!

I just finished cleaning my diamond ring and I was totally surprised at how dirty it was. I had no idea! It looks all new and shiny now and I’ve been thinking a lot about being engaged. It doesn’t actually feel all that different to me than how serious we were before (a fact that I had to insist upon to the Peace Corps people so I could actually go!). But at the same time, there is something different about it. I guess the significance is mostly in how people respond to it. “Boyfriend” is so much less important sounding than “fiancé” and it’s funny because for the last two or so years, “boyfriend” has not really been an acceptable term to adequately express our relationship to other people. By using “fiancé” and having the ring, people don’t question my commitment to him. The other trainees with significant others back home are seen by the single people here as basically fair game, but I am completely off the market, as if I were married. I mean, it’s nice, but it would be frustrating if I were not engaged, but just as serious about us. I don’t know, I’m rambling, but suffice it to say that I am really glad that I am not going to be participating in the Peace Corps hook-up and rumor mill. Apparently everyone gets with everyone else and everyone else knows about it. I feel way too old for that shit, haha.

So apparently the mosquitoes in my house are strong because the first maman had malaria! I asked her today after dinner what was on her hand and she told me it was from an IV when she was at the hospital yesterday because she caught the palu (palu is short for paludisme which means malaria). I told her she should sleep under a mosquito net and she said she already did. But there are like a million mosquitoes out in the living room in the evenings, so I guess there’s no avoiding it. I guess if you’re not on prophylactics there’s really no way to prevent getting bitten by an infected mosquito. It’s kind of cool because I totally have the malaria parasites in my body right now, but the mefloquine keeps the symptoms away. Totally rad, but it means that even if I left Benin right now and didn’t get any more bites, if I stopped taking the meds I could get malaria in like a month. Also, sometimes the parasites stay dormant in the liver and can resurface in like 10 years! Wild stuff. Related to mamans, I haven’t seen the young maman in like two weeks. I think she and papa are having a fight or something. which is understandable since he’s got two wives living in the same house. I’d probably be in a fight a lot, too.

E