Malaria Dreams

So it's been awhile since I've been able to write anything even remotely detailed. Sorry. But now, due to some extenuating circumstances, I have a bit more free time with the internet. As the title suggests, I am sick with malaria. Now, this is not so uncommon among volunteers, and almost all locals contract it at some point. Rachel, the volunteer who I replaced, had it. Several volunteers in my stage had it. And now I do. It's not so bad, at least not 24/7. But when the symptoms hit, mostly at night, it's on. Sweats, shaking, strange visions, and an inability to tell the difference between actual events and those that were dreamt. I have a very vivid recollection of a volunteer giving me a recipe that involved eggs. But there was no volunteer there. Banal, yes, but you get the point.

Anyway, since sickness hasn't been consuming my life for my blogless past month, I can give you some other tidbits of information. To start, after a round of interviews, I was given the position of PCVL (PCV leader) in Parakou for the next year. What eventually led me to this decision was my lack of love for the teaching conditions in Benin. I'm a little less patient than what I think is required, although I'm told that I do a good job. There will be someone replacing me next year in Kemon, so I'll be able to visit whenever I want. I'm going to deeply miss many of the people there, but at least its not goodbye forever. The hard part will be informing them. Since I want to tell my principal first, I was planning on doing it on Monday. Fate intervened in the form of malaria and delayed the meeting, so that still is pending.

PCVLs are regional supervisors, basically. I will visit peoples' posts, address any problems/concerns, work on new site selection, and manage the workstation in Parakou. I also am required to start my own initiatives outside of the PC world. There are several volunteers who have started projects or have ideas, and there are plenty of opportunities to find work in Parakou. This will hopefully allow me to focus more on the business development aspect of the Peace Corps, but I hope to also continue teaching in the form of correspondence and English clubs at local high schools. That being said, I'm excited. Thanks to the efforts of Kyle, the present PCVL, the workstation just moved out of its rat-infested predecessor and into a newer, nicer location with a facade like that of a Swiss Chateau.

I'll try to post some pics of other things I've been doing, but I have no way to upload pictures on this desktop. :( Happy Cinco de Mayo to everyone!

Happy Easter! And Happy Birthday!

First of all, Happy Easter. And Happy Birthday, David Morse Cowell! It's his 60th. That's a milestone, I think, especially since he still made it even after coming to Africa during the hot season. I spent mine in the Natitingou Region, and it honestly was one of the most memorable in recent times, if only because of the stark contrast between the place where I spent it and my normal environs. We spent the weekend in the beautiful region of Bekoumbe, where a volunteer named Carlan works with local entrepreneurs. And the shuttle just arrived, so it turns out this is just going to be a quick little greeting.

Sorry that Butler lost that game, though. 'Tis a shame. We were all cheering for you.

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

... So Take Off All Your Clothes

It's hot. And it's not the heat most of you are used to. It's 100+-I-want-to-tear-out-my-sweat-glands-everyday type of heat. Ask my father for a more in-depth and pain-filled description. He keeps telling me that he enjoyed every minute, but his sweat glands were in hyperdrive, so I'm quite sure that, in retrospect, he will admit that there were moments that were less-than-enjoyable. Even the villagers are complaining.

So I saw my father off this morning. As far as I know, he is in Morocco right now, possibly delayed due to the BLIZZARD in New York. Talk about traveling from one extreme to the other. This past week, while working with our Beninese counterparts in Porto-Novo, we saw updates of both the Winter Olympics and the blizzard in the Northeast. Forgive me for finding it difficult to commiserate. My father shared the same sentiments. But it was great to catch up on some of the current events on CNN, even if most of them are less-than-positive. For instance, it was intriguing to know about the new front against the dangerous shape of hotdogs. Who knew? Apparently the shape makes it easy for the entire hot dog to get lodged in a child's throat. I guess we can no longer cut up a hotdog for our youth, or teach them to chew. And Obama and McCain are still bickering at each other concerning health care. Except for sleeker Apple inventions, I suspect that the world to which I will return will not differ greatly from the world I left.

But I digress. My father and I had a great time, even though bureaucratic school meetings poked a hole in our plans to go on a safari. But my father said that he accomplished his two goals: to see my village and to spy on me for my mom to make sure I was safe. The verdict? I'm safe and warm! But we had a wonderful time. I'll leve it to him to write about our times together. I'm giving him unfettered access to upload photos to my blog. Enjoy! And happy March!

I Just Can't Wait to be King

So here's a quick update to provide concrete evidence that my father has indeed arrived. I always eat yam pillet, or pounded yam, at the same woman's stall for lunch on the way back from school. Her neighbor usually places this darling child in my arms, always exclaiming that she is so happy to have me as a future son-in-law. Of course, she is implying that this newborn will someday be my wife. In Africa, in fact, she could be my wife within the decade. However, I always tell her that we need to go out on a couple dates first, in order to get to know each other.

Don't worry, Mom, the dates won't actually occur...

But you can find solace in the fact that my father has encased his future daughter-in-law in his protective embrace - the same embrace in which he, in turn, is held by the villagers of Kemon.

No, I cannot remember the little girl's name. It might be Candice. I don't know.

And my father has already received a local Yoruba name. Its pronounced "Ah-kay-bee," and it means that he is the good father of many. Mine is Arremoo (roll the R), and it's the name given to the future successor of the king. Since my village does, indeed, have a king, this name still has relevance in Yorubaland.