Baby There's a Shark in the Water

So another member of my a cappella group has decided to take the Peace Corps plunge. This time it's Austin and his wife Brooke. There are a lot of benefits to serving as a couple in the Peace Corps, and I wish the both of them the best of luck. The married couples here seem to be very happy, and also seem to be getting a lot of work done. So much of the endless bantering could be avoided if I didn't have to explain why I have no wife and kids. Although it's usually a fun exchange, it gets a little old when the community members ask you every day why you don't have a wife. "Well," I say, "I just don't have one. I may look old with this beard (I don't) but I'm actually very young. In America (blah, blah, blah, etc. etc.)." Well, the two of them are going to be great volunteers. Austin is one of the wittiest writers that I've ever encountered, and I look forward to reading his blog (honestly). Anyway, the point is that they are going to be serving somewhere in the Caribbean. "The Caribbean," you think, "How fortunate!" But here are a few holes I immediately poked in their argument:

1. Haiti is in the Caribbean.

Actually, that was only one hole, but I believe it's rather significant. While I'm not saying Haiti is a bad post (I'm quite sure that Benin is actually poorer), I just wanted to put forth the idea that NO Peace Corps post is easy. However, interestingly enough, Haiti was the second Republic formed in the Eastern Hemisphere. There will always be poverty, you will always confront hunger, and your living conditions are almost never as comfortable as they were in the States. But it's all a wonderful experience, nonetheless.

I'd like to take a moment to point out the many ways in which my village resembles a tropical paradise:

1.) Palm trees are ubiquitous.

2.) It is all sand. And not deserty sand. It is sand in the midst of a tropical forest.

3.) People are often drunk on local millet beer and grain alcohol, and all villagers walk around in cheap flip-flops.

4.) People are always lounging in the shade of trees, which bear the fruit of mangos, papayas, limes, and other tropical fruits. These are also in my back courtyard.

5.) The weather is always warm (understatement). It never rains.

Reasons why my post is not like a tropical paradise:

1.) There is no water.

But that one counterargument is enough to make my village a hardship post. The fact that there is no water (and no electricity) debunks the entire possibility of Kemon being a paradise. We are presently in the (somewhat lofty) process of installing electrical wires and water towers in Kemon. I do not believe that I'll reap the benefits of these services during my time in Kemon.

Lost of work going on right now. Congratulations to the Gender and Development program here for staging a successful pair of evenings here in Parakou last weekend, during which they earned a lot of money for the funding of PCV projects relating to gender. I'm in the process of applying to use some of these funds for a project I plan to do with my students.

Offshore drilling, health care, student loan overhauls. Exciting time there in the States. RIP, 'Cuse. Seems so far away...

Your Candle Burned Out Long Before...

Kate. She was a volunteer in Benin - an education volunteer, to be exact. Yesterday, we celebrated her remarkable - and remarkably short - career with a touching ceremony of music, photos, and heartfelt first-hand accounts. For many people it was a chance to finally say goodbye to their beloved friend because, you see, the funeral held exactly one year ago was rife with confusion and grief. The confusion persists, as does the grief, but the majority of volunteers who swore in at her side have since departed, and there wasn't a person in my stage who ever met her. But it's not for lack of want, and we all feel as if we have.

Kate stood up for what she believed in. Plain and simple. She was buttressed by her friends and a proper sense of justice, propelled by boundless energy and positivity, and surrounded by purpose. Or so we hear. And so we see, through blogs, tears of friends, and photos of an ever-present smile.

We arrived, last July, in a flurry of uncertainty. Up until the point that our plane touched down, volunteers here in Benin had serious doubts that they would receive any new volunteers. The program here would, in effect, be shut down. Volunteers also thought that, upon learning of Kate's tragic fate, many of my fellow stagiaires would wish to leave. For the most part, we're still here. And thriving. And we're all better off for having known of Kate's existence. I'm not kidding - she was a very special person. So this blog is for her memory, and to give the sincerest of condolences to her friends and family. Her memory will live on forever through the efforts and spirits of volunteers across the globe, and it will be especially vibrant here in Benin.

For more information, visit her blog: http://beinginbenin.blogspot.com/

Pictures from Kemon and Parakou Feb. 2010

Dad teaching English songs to class

Claire facilitating a discussion group at in-service training

Homologues and PCVs at inservice training Feb.,2010

Dad and me with my home stay family at Songhai centre

Mr. Etibaio, my Dad, Mr. E's girfriend and Mr. Edone, my homologue

close range English instruction

"supermarket" from the bus window

Me with neighbors Ruth and Moreni on the back stoop

Triple potty

Late night dinner prep

Dad's Benin bedroom

Laundry Day

My 3 year old neighbor Ruth having lunch with my Dad

Me using African broom to sweep front porch