PUPPIES and other life-things

(Originally written on Tuesday, December 15, 2009)

After I took myself for a late lunch of yam pilée on Sunday, instead of heading straight home to steer clear of the craziness of marché day that occurs every four days in Bohicon, I went against my normal inclination and ventured right on into the madness. I walked my bike, because there’s no use trying to ride (it’s hard enough when it’s not an official marché day), to my egg lady’s stall and sat around for an hour or so.

I watched and listened to and smelled the steady bustle of activity: Tons of people walking through and biking through and zemming through; babies on backs, basins on heads; old men and young men pushing and pulling carts; every color of the rainbow represented in tissue clothing, cheap imported goods and food- red peppers, green peppers, piment, onions, legumes, okra, tomatoes and mounds of sugar and salt and so on; friends catching up with each other, vendors hollering about what they’re selling, the constant haggling over prices between buyer and seller; popcorn carts and (fairly) recently-butchered meat and fried breads and peanuts.

This is the marché everyday, but intensified and bigger on marché day so that you think the streets will literally just give out from the endless movement and everyone and everything will just collapse into a big, raucous, colorful, smelly heap.

I bid farewell to the marché as vendors were beginning to collect their goods for the next marché day, either here in Bohicon the next day or elsewhere if they’d travelled to come here. I didn’t escape before some very animated ladies told me they wanted to marry my brothers and/or marry me off to one of their Beninese brothers. I told them I was one of three girls so I couldn’t help them with their marriage goals, to which they responded that girls are a gift from God… but so are boys, they said. And I said no thanks to their offers to have me marry their brothers. And then they laughed and moved back to their stalls.

I rode back to my village and faced the same scene as when I had left three hours before: underwear-outfitted kids, at the sight of my front bicycle tire, scampering down the dirt path yelling my name- “COT-IEEEEE, COT- IEEEEE” and so forth and so on. I get really animated on my bike and start waving and yelling back when I see them and that makes them even more excited, and then we stop for a chat. They don’t speak much French, and I don’t speak much Fon, so we don’t get very far but it still works out and we all leave each other’s company smiling. I turn back to wave because they’re still standing there, yelling my name and laughing.

I ate some pâte blanche with my concession family that evening, having decided that I should give it another shot because the first time I had it was during the first weekend that I’d arrived in Benin and, well, I was losing my mind a little and wasn’t quite ready to attempt the local cuisine. There are three popular kinds of pâte (it’s not pasta): blanche (white), rouge (red), and noir (black). Blanche is made with corn, as is rouge but you incorporate a tomato sauce, and noir is made with manioc. Most Volunteers I know hate pâte noir, preferring pâte rouge because of the inherent flavor of the tomato and pâte blanche because it assumes the taste of the accompanying sauce. Pâte, most of the time, looks like blobs of whipped potatoes (if only it tasted so good!), the way yam pilée does.

Since Mariette wasn’t expecting me for dinner, she was a little concerned because the sauce had bush rat in it. That’s right- bush rat (called “agouti,” it’s really cane rat). I hear it’s pretty tasty. Anyway, I said that was no problem and I could just eat the sauce without the meat. And there was another sauce- sauce gombo (okra) and the sauce part literally looked like the product of the runniest nose you’ve ever seen. Stringy snot. I know, gross. But I asked to try some pâte blanche so I wasn’t going to turn into a coward now! Truly, it wasn’t horrible. I wouldn’t eat it every day, but I wouldn’t turn it down if it was my only option. Haha.

Yesterday morning I walked with my friend, Flora, to the CEG (high school) so that I could observe a class. When I want to start up a club in the coming months, it will have been good to make my presence known to the school administration. Formalities are very important in Benin.
The director wasn’t there, so I met with these two other men who invited me to come be an English teacher every day! I declined as politely as I could. I don’t want to teach English on a regular basis, but I like the idea of helping in a club setting… once a week! I requested a science class, given the nature of my environmental volunteerism, and was pretty bored for two hours. It’s true, in general, education here isn’t too invigorating: it’s memorization and repetition and there’s not much room for creative or independent thought. I am so glad not only to have an education, but to have received it in the United States. We’ve got a good thing going on, even if there are drawbacks. Trust me on that one.

After school, I ate lunch under the mango tree and again was thrown the question, “Do you eat rice and beans in your country?” this time, from some random man.

And I said, “Yes, absolutely we have rice and beans in the United States.”

“But where do you find the beans?”

“I buy them at the supermarket.”

“Whoa. The beans here make it all the way to your supermarkets in the United States?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that the beans au marché don’t get sent there. We have other beans.”

Then I went to the orphanage to see the puppies. And my homologue, Mathieu, was there with some bad news: the puppies’ mother was killed last week. So now, these poor puppies really are orphans, too. Do you see these little faces? How can I not do my little part and help one out? You can see what my melted heart is up against. In all of their malnourished and dirty and bug-ridden misfortunes, I just don’t think I can say no to giving one a good home. Even though I’ll have to make sure that he doesn’t get killed and eaten (I have been warned against this!), but I’m up for the challenge. I’ll keep you posted.

Today I had a meeting with Mathieu and Margaret to talk about the Moringa book, but unfortunately I was totally incapacitated with a horrible stomach malady that began at 2am. It reminded me of when I was sick on post-visit, with what’s believed to have been giardia, but I am feeling mostly fine after twelve hours and haven’t been doubled over with strange cramping and never-ending trips to the bathroom since this afternoon. And apparently I looked as awful as I felt, but Margaret stuck around and left after I was able to move off of a chair without feeling like I would immediately fall down. I am well-hydrated, don’t worry, with this drink mix in our medical kits for times like these: a powdery blend of potassium, salt and sugar and something else. It’s kind of gross, but much more drinkable when accompanied by a packet of Crystal Lite! I can’t pinpoint anything strange in the past few days in terms of eating (okay yes the snotty gombo and rat sauces are new), but it also could’ve been something from weeks ago. But that’s life, right? That’s Africa!

The meeting was good and brief; Margaret and I will start writing this little Moringa book with the hope of having it finished, edits and all, by March 1st of next year. It should be good!

Well, ten days until Christmas! It’s getting close, but I know you’ll all get your shopping done and all that good stuff. Did I mention that I’m headed to my friend Hannah’s post? She’s north just 50K and what you’d refer to as “In the bush.” I can make a call from my desk; she has to go to the top of a hill. I can take a fifteen-minute bike ride into Bohicon everyday and get all the food I want; she has a little marché every few days and comes to the big town (Bohicon!) every now and again for hard-to-find goods. Anyway, it should be a good time with other Volunteers, too! I’m optimistic!

Until next time- lots of love from 100 degree Africa!

Some snapshots en route to the orphanage, including the common "baby on back, basin on head" woman.

What exists of the orphanage and outside gathering structure (3rd photo) right now- not quite ready for its future 20 residents. That area in front of the outside sitting area iswhere our garden will be!

PUPPIES! See what I'm up against? Oh you have to scoop up your melty-heart off the floor now, right? I understand completely.

These two puppies were bought in the market before the others were born. They're not fluffy or floppy-earred like the others and they're even skinnier- they used to look less malnourished.

I have no words.