Friday, February 18, 2011

Found Nemo...




And decided to eat him.
I have now killed with my own two hands, and prepared something that flies--the chicken (yes I'm using the world flies very, very liberally)--and something that swims--the fish. Now all that is left is something that walks or....hops >). Where are you Peter Cottontail?

Pictures!


Thursday, February 17, 2011

Touristy things.



Just a few photos. I went to visit tatasombas with another volunteer in a village relatively close to Natitingou. Tatasombas are a style of housing built by local people. The houses are made of mud, 2 stories with a roof that is used for storing food, shelter and other things that I don't remember or am not sure of. We took zems to and fro and although I was cursing the heavens the entire ride back, it was pretty neat to see the tatas and I got a few good shots of local people in the village of Bakoumbe.


Friday, February 4, 2011

Gay ol' Paris.



On the way back to Benin, I stopped in Paris for a week with another volunteer who was traveling and coming back the same time I was.
Before becoming a Peace Corps Volunteer, I had never traveled abroad so this time in Paris, I did all the tourist-y things: Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, Arc de Triomphe.
Just a few pictures.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

...But you can't take America out of the boy...

In December, I traveled for 24 solid hours to go home for a visit (sitting in an airport for 5 hours does in fact count as travel). It was pretty fun, great to see family.
It is so true that every person handles their re-introduction to the States differently. Some volunteers said they felt weird when they went home--I felt normal. I didn't feel like an outsider, estranged, apart, separate or anything of the sort.
However, I did feel aware.
I knew the moment I got on the plane in Paris to Fly into Philadelphia that I was on a plane full of Americans. I heard two distinct things I hadn't heard in 18 months: rude conversation and loud and rowdy children.
Everything in Africa runs at a slower pace, even the conversations. In Benin the first part of any conversation you have is usually a greeting followed by a question and answer period during which you ask about someone's day, their children, their spouse, their work, their health, their animals, if the force is with them, how long it takes Jupiter to rotate around the sun, how many moons Mercury has, and the square of 28,25o,509. As you might guess, conversations last a bit longer here and while the Beninese aren't always beacons of politeness or socially acceptable behavior, they will at least ask about every aspect of your life including whether or not you want to marry their baby girl (if you're male) and if you can loan them money, before they let you buy a soda from them. Having been in Benin for nearly 19 months now, I've become so accustomed to this conversational dance that I value it as an integral part to any social interaction. There's something satisfying about asking someone about the health of their children and how work is going for them.
So you can imagine my shock when, as I was sitting on the airplane getting comfortable, the flight attendant came up to me and asked if I needed anything before promptly walking away. Why didn't he want to know about my stomach, my eyes, my left big toe, and my courage?
I was even more offended when, while checking on other passengers, he simply said "hello, do you need anything?" Why didn't he ask about their kids, their spouse, their health, and their work?
And so, I immediately and even a bit righteously concluded that Americans are rude. The point of all those national jokes about rugged unrefined Americans suddenly became clear to me. We don't spend 20 minutes asking someone about how their digesting their food, their patience level, or the hair follicle on their left thigh right above the knee. And we are declassé because of it.
About the loud and rowdy children.
It's true that the workstation is next to an orphanage and often times the children howl at all hours of the night sometimes for hours on end. Wailing, wailing wailing. But you know what Beninese children don't do: they don't run around screaming in joy at top of their voices on airplanes. I've ridden in taxis for 9 people, stuffed with 15, and 3 small children who don't utter a peep the entire ride. Nevermind that at 3 and 4 they're still breast-feeding (usually why they aren't talking), they're quiet. I maintain that there is a difference between the howling of twelve African children and the shrill screams of 2 year old American children. Eventually, it dawned on me that American parents bargain way too much with their kids. I haven't heard "darling, don't you want to sit down now? Please sit down." in 18 months and when I did, I thought "that bargaining is why our American children grow up and believe so strongly in their autonomy as humans. People don't like big goverment because it's like the concerned, attentive, non-bargaining parent they never had. Big government says "do _____ now" to people who grew up with "do you want to do _____now?" Don't you see U.S. government: you have to start asking people if they want to do things. Do this, and you too will be as successful as the pleading airplane parents whose kids ran up and down the aisle THE ENTIRE 8 HOURS OF FLIGHT FROM FRANCE TO THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
Well, I noticed a lot of things when I went back to America. For instance the number of people in drive-thrus and their.....size....or just how much of a gem Target is (I love you), the awesomeness of real milk not that French stuff that can sit in heat for months on end and not spoil, good chocolate, fast internet and...TV!! But, what I most noticed was that I was still American and loved consuming :)