Sink or swim? Staying afloat.

“Yovo Yovo

Bon soir

Ca va

Bien”

… and repeat. The term “Yovo” here means white person, or foreigner and the above is a song that children sing when they see me, or any other person with lighter skin than them. From what I have heard, they are taught this in grammar school. It basically represents the level of fluency a “Yovo” has in Benin and their limited ability to communicate. I am no exception, of course, though I wish I were. Some people become very annoyed and agitated by this label and the song and reprimand the children who say it. It doesn’t bother me, however. The term yovo does not have any racial implications. For a lot of these kids, I’m the first white person they’ve seen, or at most, one of the few they’ve seen, and they’re just curious and observing what they see. The polite thing to do in Benin when greeted with the Yovo song, or just “Yovo!” is to say “Bon soir” or “Bonjour.” However, this becomes a little exhausting when I am running and in between breathing the humid, dust-filled air, dodging zemidjans (and hoping they return the favor), and attempting to maintain a challenging pace, I also am saying “Bon soir! Bon soir! Ca va bien, merci.” Woof.

This past week has been a three-ring circus of new sights, tastes and experiences in general. We were placed with our host families and have begun our intensive language, technical and cultural training. My family is very kind and patient – thank goodness. My French is coming along, though I still have a lot to learn. Familiarizing myself with the city of Porto Novo Is quite a challenge, also. I have a fairly good sense of direction and have my bearings on the cardinal directions here, but I still have to remember landmarks such as the corner with the excessive number of goats, the fence with a monkey tied to it, or the road with erosive water damage in order to get home at the end of the day. Supposedly, the streets have names, but I am yet to see a single sign. For now, my method seems to be effective; just don’t ask me for directions.

On the subject of getting around Porto Novo, we received our mountain bikes this week and I have been riding mine to school everyday. This is not the typical “ride-my-bike-to-school” image you may have of a smiling kid with a cute basket-bearing bicycle and a red horn. This is get-your-clip-on-shoes, where are your bike gloves?, hold on tight, grit your teeth and go, ride-my-bike-to-school image. There is a reason they give us mountain bikes. Whoa. It’s better than being on foot, most of the time, but it’s certainly no smooth ride in the Boston suburbs.

Life here is, as one might suspect, a whole other world from the one I have always known. Nothing is simple. Drinking water requires 4 hours of planning ahead; boiling then allowing to cool then filtering. Doing laundry is a 3 hour feat of intensive labor that involves retrieving well water, transporting it to the washing site, scrubbing, rinsing, hanging and then disposing of the water. Going to bed at night entails spraying myself with Deet-concentrated bug spray, climbing under the mosquito net, then tucking it in at the sides to ensure no malaria-infected insects try to nibble on me. It has left me wondering – what did I do with the extra time I had when the modern amenities in America were readily available? Obviously, we always find ways to fill our time, but time seems even more precious now. The moments of freedom from daily obligations are more rare, yet of more value. It’s interesting to think how my concept of time will have morphed when I return to the States. Time is something I hope to never take granted.

A lot happens on sidewalks

One of my favorite ways to explore and see a new city is by early morning runs; awake before the city begins to roar, and just listening to the rhythm of the strange place. I exchange curious glances with local passerby, though some looks received more closely resemble bewilderment. As my run progresses, I watch the city wake with explosive energy. Without warning, people are bustling, cars are zooming, and the air thickens. My run comes to a close.

Yesterday morning, I was finally given the opportunity to run in Cotonou. One of the current Peace Corps volunteers offered to take a group of us out at 6:30. We left the hostel at 6:34 and began to run towards the city center. We ran mostly on sidewalks, however this does not imply that the terrain was not challenging. In Benin, a lot happens on sidewalks. There are piles of rubbish, sand that has drifted across the stone, gaping holes from lost stone tiles, failed man-hole covers that will take you directly to the city sewage drain, and moto-drivers who cannot pass a vehicle on the road, thus decide to off-road it. I felt like Indiana Jones, sans leather satchel and a phobia of snakes. An exciting way to start the day.

Later that day, we received zemidjan (pronounced zemee-john) training. They are the primary means of transportation here and are similar to a small motorcyle. We learned how to flag one down, the dynamics of the interaction with the driver (i.e. haggling), proper mounting procedure, and how to ride without falling off or burning your leg. It was a blast. But, what I found most interesting was the interaction with the driver. Prior to initiating any conversation about destination and travel fee, it is very important to greet the driver and ask how he is doing. This custom is also valid for any interaction with a stranger; I think this is a noteworthy gesture. It represents people acting as human beings and recognizing that humanity in others, as well. I thought of how often people actually greet the Subway sandwich worker before saying “Veggie Delight on Multi-grain bread. Toasted.” It’s a simple action, but carries significant weight.

Let the Adventure Continue

I began the process of becoming Peace Corps volunteer on June 3, 2009. This was the one-year anniversary of my grandmother’s death. Her influence and presence in my life has played, and continues to play, a pivotal role in who I am and who I strive to be. I decided on June 3, 2009, that every year on the anniversary of her death, I would do something to celebrate her life. It is important that her selflessness, ceaseless giving, and peace-spreading nature be reincarnated in the hands of those who were fortunate enough to have borne witness to her unparalleled embodiment of that which she valued most.

On June 3, 2010, I notified the Peace Corps of my formal acceptance of the invitation to serve as a Community Health Advisor in Benin, West Africa, departing July 14. It is a French-speaking country, which is exciting because I’ve always wanted to be, at least, bilingual. In conversation, the usual question to follow is: “Do you speak French?” Answer: While the College Board seems to find my French sufficient, I have no doubt that I will be struggling to find the words for marketplace items and to speak in any tense but the present.

There will be 9 weeks of Pre-service Training where we will live with host families and attend classes for 8-10 hours a day. Classes will include intensive language instruction in addition to technical training in our area of specialty. Our host families serve as the source for our cultural education by providing information about Beninese culture and feedback regarding our performance within that culture. After the 9 weeks, we are given our community assignment and move to our two-year service site.

I’m excited to see the world from a new perspective and learn from all of the wonderful, interesting people I am sure to meet. While concern has been expressed in regards to safety, communication, the prevalence of snakes and my ability to resist the temptation to adopt one as a pet, I am confident in the Peace Corps ability, and my own, to ensure that I remain healthy, educated and free of snake bites.

I appreciate all the support that my friends, family, and strangers on airplanes have given me. I love you all. Peace Corps is another chapter in the big adventure that is life. So let the adventure continue.

P.S. I do not know how readily available the internet will be once I am in Benin, so these posts, and communication with me in general, are likely to be irregular and infrequent.