This past week, I had great fun playing tour guide for my dad. He had work in the region of West Africa, and was able to stop by and visit Benin before heading back to the USA. Luckily, his trip coincided with our week long April break, kind of like a spring break. The break is called Conge (pronounced congay) and the kids don’t have classes.
I finished my classes at noon on Thursday April 2nd, and packed up my bag and the dog for our travels. My new close-mate Claire was traveling to the US for 3 weeks, so I volunteered to watch her 7 month old dog Maisey for 2 of the 3 weeks. Maisey looks like a sleek reddish brown and white fox, which is very much unlike the scroungy
rib-showing short-haired local dogs. My fuzzy houseguest did wonders for my integration. People would stop me on the road and point excitedly at the dog, or stare strangely at it. The fact that it was on a leash was a big source of humor for the villagers, and the kids would entertain themselves by slowly creeping up to her, and running away shrieking when she turned towards them. Maisey and I climbed to the top of the mountain in my village with my Bariba Tutor, and overlooked the flat brown and green African landscape. Mountains towering in the distance, the sleepy village of Birni laid out below us. I walked to places in village that I hadn’t been brave enough to venture to by myself, for lack of company. We found a beautiful wooded path behind the priests’ house that continues on for 3 miles or so before opening up into farming fields. It was comforting to have a little friend for a few days, sharing my house. We would wake up early in the morning and go for a walk, and in the evenings after class we would play with the neighbor kids. Little 2 year old Tobi, who rolls a mixture of new and unfamiliar French, English, and Fon words on her tongue, would come to my porch door and say “Tanti, ourvrez la porte pour voire Maisey” (Auntie, open the door to see Maisey). I have thought about getting a little fur ball of my own, but realistically I don’t think it’ll happen. The little dog was the start of many conversations, and people loved her. It made sitting and visiting a little less awkward, because they would be talking about Maisey the whole time.
Maisey and I waited for a taxi on the side of the road, and when one finally pulled up, she jumped into the front seat and curled herself into the space under the dashboard. 20 or so minutes later, we stopped in Claire’s village. I walked Maisey up to her house, and spoke with the neighbors who were going to dog-sit for that last week. After getting her settled with a dish of water and a walk around the neighborhood, I left in a taxi for Nati to finish planning for the upcoming English Day in Nati.
On Sunday, I returned to my village very briefly, as it was Easter. My TEFL friend Sarah was visiting the region, and decided to come with me to see my village. The church was putting on a small celebration, and the catholic community partied together under the trees near the church. Sarah and I went for a little while, eating plates of spicy rice, and drinking the local beer “tchouk”. There was some music and dancing, and little children meandering about. It was fun to see the community come together to celebrate. A few of the Muslim villagers came to see what the party was about, and they enjoyed watching the dancing too. There is a smooth peace in my village, between the Muslims and the Christians. They live as one: one community, one family, one people.
While the people danced under the trees and the music wound its way through the tangle of beating hearts, the most unexpected thing happened. The sky got dark, and the sporadic sounds of booming could be heard. The skies opened up and the clouds started crying. It was the most beautiful feeling. The cool water drenching ever fiber of the earth, and the plants greedily sucking up the slowly forming puddles. The people scattered, running for cover into the church, the kids gleefully shrieking at the excitement. Sarah and I dashed towards my house, which is only a stone’s throw away from the church. I unlocked the door to my porch, and dropped my purse on the ground. I looked at Sarah, and made a quick decision. I stepped back off the porch, and back out into the rain. I lifted my arms, and closed my eyes as I slowly spun amidst the drops. After a few moments, Sarah joined me and we laughed together as the water saturated our clothes. We danced about the yard, singing whatever songs came to mind. Little Tobi and her sister Fifa watched us from the safety of their porch. The two young girls who work at the concession buvette, Mounira and Rachida, laughed along with us, as they ran to and from the covered tables, serving drinks. The people tucked away out of the rain watched us, chuckling as the two crazy Americans dancied in the rain.
Rachida, the rounder and more quiet of the two girls, snuck up behind me. She had a plastic water sachet full of ice cold water, and she bit off the corner before chasing me and squirting the entirety of the bag of water at me. I dashed around the yard, between the straw wall and the tree stump, around the hand washing station, around the table full of people drinking beer, and back around the small mango tree, before leaping back onto my front porch. I grabbed a water sachet from the table in my house, bit off the corner, and hid it behind my back. I crept out of my house, and waited for Rachida to come back around. When she did, I waited until she turned her back before emptying the contents of the water bag all over her. Mounira, the spunkier and more out-going of the two, laughed hysterically and joined in the fun. Little Fifa came out of her hiding place and danced with us in the rain as well, before skipping back into her house. Tobi watched from the sidelines and the safety of the porch roof, egging us on. The people drinking beers continued to laugh, watching as the 5 girls played in the rain, with the little one cheering from the safety of the porch.
I had gone back into my house to grab a towel and a change of clothes for me and Sarah, when I looked at my phone. My dad had sent me a message, saying that he had arrived in Nati. What?!?!? He wasn’t supposed to get there for another 3 hours or so. It’s roughly a 10-12 hours bus ride from Cotonou, and he had arrived in about 7.5 hours. Well, s***. The Beninese stop everything when it rains. How was I supposed to get a taxi and get to Nati? I dashed around my house, quickly straightening up and packing a few changes of clothes in my backpack. We’d just have to hope for the best. Sarah draped my big blue towel around her head, and I popped open my matching blue umbrella. We ventured out to the main road, and stood on the porch of a small shop, under tin roof to get out of the rain. As we waited, we started singing songs, in a British accent. The group of people standing on the next porch over clapped approvingly. We had quite a bit of fun, and our spirits were high. Finally a car rolled past, and we hopped in. We arrived in Nati about 25 minutes later. I hopped on a zem, and went to the hotel were my dad was. I launched myself off the moto, paid the driver, and jogged into the lobby and out the door to the pool patio. Across the water, dozing in a white lounge chair, was a familiar face. I crept around the edge of the pool, and when I was just close enough said “Well hey there, old man!”
My dad was only here in Nati for a short visit, from Sunday to Friday. Sunday night, I took him to the restaurant buvette on the side of the mountain to meet my gang of PCVs. There were about 10 people in town, and we all grabbed a beer and some French fries with fried chicken. We took motos from the hotel to the restaurant, and it was pretty funny to watch. I vaguely remember my first rides on a moto, and how exhilarating it was. Watching him hang on, and then jump off when we arrived was pretty funny. Monday, we went to visit my village. We saw my house, ate lunch with the priests, walked around my village, drank a beer with my school administration, and saw my school before returning to Nati. Tuesday, my friend Genesis joined us and we drove up to Park Pendjari, the safari park in Northern Benin. We stayed there for the night. In the park, we saw antelope, gazelles, buffalo, wildabeasts, crocodiles, baboons, hippos, elephants and 5 lions. Two of the lions were young males, and they were out on the hunt, stalking a herd of antelope. Then we saw a mama lion carrying a carcass, and two baby lions hiding in the brush. It was pretty amazing to see. Park Pendjari is in no way like the safari parks in Kenya or Tanzania, but it was still awesome to see. We drove back to Nati on Wednesday, stopping to see the waterfalls on the way back. We climbed up the rocks, through small streams, past the smaller of the falls, and up to the bigger falls. It was only about 60 metres high, but it was absolutely beautiful. There was a French family enjoying the swimming hole, and their three little boys were absolutely adorable. They wore little plastic floaties on their arms, and jumped in and out of the water. Genesis and I hopped in as well, and swam out to the where the falls plummeted into the small pool. It was beautiful. Afterwards, we stopped for a cold coca-cola in the town, and continued back to Nati. The road curved through the mountains, and overlooked the valley. It was a beautiful ride. When we returned, dad ate his first bite of Beninese food: igname pilee with peanut sauce. We spent the rest of Wednesday by the pool, before taking him to eat pomme sautee with biche (creamy potatoes with vegetable and antelope meat). I just got a salad and fries. Thursday, we just took it easy and relaxed by the pool. We visited the artisan market in Nati, and moto’d around town. Genesis and Roxana showed us their favorite BBQ pork place, and we bought fabric to make him a shirt. That night, we went to a more touristy restaurant, and ate sautéed mushrooms, and a Maroccan vegetable dish with couscous.
Friday morning, my dad and I traveled back down south the Cotonou. We arrived in the evening, and met a friend of his from work on the beach for dinner and a beer, before his flight left later that night. The restaurant beach club was a bit overwhelming for me, as I am not used to seeing such extravagant things: a beach side club resort with a pool, lounge chairs, tiki lights, and art sculptures. The bathrooms were simply amazing as well… potpourri sat in dishes on the sink, and little flowers adourned the marble bathroom. I was overwhelmed by the food too—I ordered a fish sandwich with fries, and an apple tart with raspberry sorbet for dessert. Toto, we are definitely not in village anymore.
I walked down the little boardwalk, towards the gate. I leaned on the wooden fence, and looked out over the ocean. There were a few people in the distance, walking out on the sand. The cool salty breeze on my face, the warm sand between my toes, the golden glow of the sun setting over the water, and the knowledge that my dad was sitting somewhere at a table behind me. It was a calming and peaceful moment. I realized that I was no longer internally stirred or amazed that I was here in Benin. It was simply just that: I was here. And I am comfortable here. Somewhere along the way, maybe around the 7-8 month mark, something shifted. I don’t know what it was exactly. Sure, life is hard here, and there is no denying it. But no longer am I deeply missing the extravagance of American life, no longer am I walking on eggshells around my fellow PCVs, no longer do I feel like a complete stranger. I am comfortable in my role as a volunteer in my village: people are used to seeing me around, my French has excelled, and I don’t feel like a tourist. Though I am not of the village, people have accepted me being there. I have found within me a new acceptance of the place and the culture that I am living in. I have a few projects in the works, only about 5 weeks of school left before summer vacation, and a few good PCV friends. I don’t know how long this feeling will last, as Peace Corps is a roller coaster of good and bad emotional days, but I can say in this moment, that life is good.
Meaghan in Benin 