Today I went to the internet café to upload my blog entries, check my email, and talk to people from home. I accomplished some of that before I lost my internet connection. So if you have emailed me and I haven’t responded I am sorry I promise I am working on it and will do my best to respond soon! Just know I love and miss everyone very much!
I came home somewhat frustrated with my lack of success at the internet café. My host brothers greeted me and helped me bring in my bike. My youngest brother, Josias who is 6 followed me into my room, while I put my things away he watched/waited impatiently for me to go play with him. I was in a bad mood and tempted to tell him I was just going to take a nap. Luckily for him (and ultimately for me) I can’t say no to him, so I agreed to hang out with him. I suggested we go for a walk as opposed to our normal hours of cards playing.
My other siblings heard me ask Josais if he wanted to go for a walk and they of course wanted to join. While we were waiting for one of my siblings to get ready Jerome (the 2nd youngest, 8 I think) broke out some of his dance moves. I am not exaggerating when I say he is an amazing dancer I will have to take a video of him dancing so I can watch it when I am having a bad day au village. He’s like a little Michael Jackson. I always start impromptu dance parties with him.
I ended up with Josias and Jerome each holding on to one of my hands and 3 other kids following closely behind. We must have been quite the sight, the white girl walking with a parade of little African boys through the streets.
Needless to say I stick out like a sore thumb. Unfortunately people see me and feel the need to yell “yovo” or other comments. “Yovo” is the word for white person which can be used in a derogatory manner but to be honest it doesn’t really bother me, I just ignore and it and keep walking. It does, however, bother my brothers who have been taught that it’s rude to call a white person a Yovo. Josias has taken it upon himself to be my protector. We walked by some kids who yelled Yovo he yelled back “shut up, you are impolite”. In Benin to call someone impolite is a big insult, you are essentially insulting their mother because you are saying they weren’t raised properly. He then looked at me very concerned and said “Maureen they are very impolite next time we should go over and hit them.” I told him that I didn’t think that hitting them would be a very good/nice thing to do. I wouldn’t ever let him hit anyone but it was amusing to know that if anything happened my 6 yr old brother had my back.
When we got home we decided to play soccer. I have a feeling my soccer skills will be much improved by the end of my time here. We played in their yard which is basically a cement drive way next to their house; they don’t have a car so they just play there instead. They are pretty hard core. Lancelot (my other brother) fell and cut up his foot. I went over and asked him if he was ok and he said no, I looked at his foot and it was cut up pretty good. I said “what do we do?” his response was “on jouet” (we play) and hoped up and started playing again.
Between my 6 yr old brother who is ready to take on the neighborhood, to my 12 yr old brother who is a hard core soccer player, to my 8 yr old brother who could beat anyone in a dance off, I have some pretty amazing host siblings. They make me appreciate the simple things in life. They make me laugh. Laughter is amazingly universal; it doesn’t matter that I don’t speak their local language and that they don’t speak English, we laugh together and that’s a language we all understand.
Random Facts:
I was served cow skin... I didn't eat it I asked what it was just as Rich was eating it, he was less than impressed with my timing on asking, but somehow managed to get it down.
There was a cockroach in my shower.. I didn't shower that day.
I kept my old zemi helmet with the Beatles sticker, just for you Margaret :)
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Daily Life
I am now in Porto Novo, and staying with a host family. We received a picture of our host family and they received that lovely picture of me that I already talked about, and then all 56 of us attempted to match our photos to our families. I walked right past my family but my “Mama” ( what I call my host mother) tapped me on the shoulder and introduced herself.
I live with my Mama and a bunch of other people, I have no idea how/if they are related, everyone I meet is introduced to me as my brother or sister. I have at least 6 siblings (between 6-12) who live here all the time but there are always kids everywhere! My Mama introduces me as her daughter to her friends, there is probably less confusion on their part as to whether or not I am blood related when they meet me. I guess I don’t resemble the rest of the family. Family isn’t always related through blood, and my host family is very welcoming and they always make sure I have everything I need and more especially when it comes to food. They feed me sooo much food, let me just give you an example, my first breakfast I was given coffee, a whole baguette with butter, 2 oranges and 5 eggs. My Mama thought I didn’t like her cooking because I normally eat 1/3 of what she gives me, I finally conveyed to her last night that I like her cooking but I seriously just can’t eat that much food.
They have a very nice house, running water, electricity (when it works, it goes out quite frequently in Benin but not for long luckily), tile floors, leather couches, a TV, etc. They love watching a redic. Spanish soap opera dubbed in French. I’ve never been much of a soap opera fan but I have a feeling I will miss it when I leave them. I have my own room with a bed, once again surrounded by my mosquito net, a desk and chair, and shelves for my things. The bathroom is located right off my room. When we met our host families the PC director told them we learned an important phrase in French “Ou sont les toilettes?” (Where is the bathroom?) When we got to my house my Mama wasted no time showing me where it was and how to use it, as in went to the bathroom mid conversation, while I was standing there, just one of my many awkward situations.
It is culturally normal for the guest and/or the Papa to eat alone and first. There is no Papa in my family so I eat by myself. Just before dinner the first night the power went out, so I sat at the table with a flashlight shined on me, like a spot lot, while all of my siblings curiously watched me eat, it was awkward to say the least! However a few nights later when I was served fish and that was staring at me because it was served with eyes and all, I would have much preferred the children staring at me!
The kids are used to me so they don’t watch me eat anymore, the run to the door when I get home from school to great me and fight over who is going to bring my bike in. It’s really hard to be here sometimes, so far from home and so out of contact with everyone at home. It’s an emotional rollercoaster; I go from laughing and loving it here to crying and missing home to wondering if I am on fear factor. I have learned to go hang out with my little siblings when I am sad they never cease to make me laugh. One of my little brothers breaks out random dance moves when he walks by me. If I sit in my room for more than half an hour they come looking for me to play cards with them. We play ALOT of UNO and some other game they taught me. The young ones don’t really understand the rules and the older kids cheat but nonetheless it’s amusing.
The roads here really stress me out! We aren’t allowed to drive a car or a moto, but I take motos as taxis and when I ride my bike I am on the road with the cars and motos, it’s kind of insane. I have a good 5 minute bike ride on a dirt road to get to my house which never fails to make me question if I’m going to make it out alive. We had a cooking session the other night with some of the current volunteers. We left their house at 8:30ish and it was already quite dark the bike ride home is best described as Catherine put it “it was like we were in the X-Games but in the dark.” We all agreed that biking at night wasn’t going to become a habit of ours.
I have classes 6 days a week starting at 8 and on Sundays I go to church with my Mama so I don’t sleep in ever! I wake up every morning at 5:30 to the call to prayer coming from the mosque down the street I had no idea what it was the first day, I always fall back asleep so it doesn’t really bother me, if you think about it it’s really kind of cool that everyone in the city of Muslim faith is getting up together to pray.
The weather really isn’t that bad normally, I haven’t broken out the sunscreen yet, the Beninese people don’t sit out in the sun, and if the sun is out they are in the shade which makes sense. I have, however used a lot of bug spray I still manage to get eaten alive. I am convinced I am going to have scars on my legs from all the bites, hopefully the malaria meds work!
I live with my Mama and a bunch of other people, I have no idea how/if they are related, everyone I meet is introduced to me as my brother or sister. I have at least 6 siblings (between 6-12) who live here all the time but there are always kids everywhere! My Mama introduces me as her daughter to her friends, there is probably less confusion on their part as to whether or not I am blood related when they meet me. I guess I don’t resemble the rest of the family. Family isn’t always related through blood, and my host family is very welcoming and they always make sure I have everything I need and more especially when it comes to food. They feed me sooo much food, let me just give you an example, my first breakfast I was given coffee, a whole baguette with butter, 2 oranges and 5 eggs. My Mama thought I didn’t like her cooking because I normally eat 1/3 of what she gives me, I finally conveyed to her last night that I like her cooking but I seriously just can’t eat that much food.
They have a very nice house, running water, electricity (when it works, it goes out quite frequently in Benin but not for long luckily), tile floors, leather couches, a TV, etc. They love watching a redic. Spanish soap opera dubbed in French. I’ve never been much of a soap opera fan but I have a feeling I will miss it when I leave them. I have my own room with a bed, once again surrounded by my mosquito net, a desk and chair, and shelves for my things. The bathroom is located right off my room. When we met our host families the PC director told them we learned an important phrase in French “Ou sont les toilettes?” (Where is the bathroom?) When we got to my house my Mama wasted no time showing me where it was and how to use it, as in went to the bathroom mid conversation, while I was standing there, just one of my many awkward situations.
It is culturally normal for the guest and/or the Papa to eat alone and first. There is no Papa in my family so I eat by myself. Just before dinner the first night the power went out, so I sat at the table with a flashlight shined on me, like a spot lot, while all of my siblings curiously watched me eat, it was awkward to say the least! However a few nights later when I was served fish and that was staring at me because it was served with eyes and all, I would have much preferred the children staring at me!
The kids are used to me so they don’t watch me eat anymore, the run to the door when I get home from school to great me and fight over who is going to bring my bike in. It’s really hard to be here sometimes, so far from home and so out of contact with everyone at home. It’s an emotional rollercoaster; I go from laughing and loving it here to crying and missing home to wondering if I am on fear factor. I have learned to go hang out with my little siblings when I am sad they never cease to make me laugh. One of my little brothers breaks out random dance moves when he walks by me. If I sit in my room for more than half an hour they come looking for me to play cards with them. We play ALOT of UNO and some other game they taught me. The young ones don’t really understand the rules and the older kids cheat but nonetheless it’s amusing.
The roads here really stress me out! We aren’t allowed to drive a car or a moto, but I take motos as taxis and when I ride my bike I am on the road with the cars and motos, it’s kind of insane. I have a good 5 minute bike ride on a dirt road to get to my house which never fails to make me question if I’m going to make it out alive. We had a cooking session the other night with some of the current volunteers. We left their house at 8:30ish and it was already quite dark the bike ride home is best described as Catherine put it “it was like we were in the X-Games but in the dark.” We all agreed that biking at night wasn’t going to become a habit of ours.
I have classes 6 days a week starting at 8 and on Sundays I go to church with my Mama so I don’t sleep in ever! I wake up every morning at 5:30 to the call to prayer coming from the mosque down the street I had no idea what it was the first day, I always fall back asleep so it doesn’t really bother me, if you think about it it’s really kind of cool that everyone in the city of Muslim faith is getting up together to pray.
The weather really isn’t that bad normally, I haven’t broken out the sunscreen yet, the Beninese people don’t sit out in the sun, and if the sun is out they are in the shade which makes sense. I have, however used a lot of bug spray I still manage to get eaten alive. I am convinced I am going to have scars on my legs from all the bites, hopefully the malaria meds work!
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