Zemi Helmets: The Finished Product

The stickers have arrived and we’re up and running. Jaren is tooting around Tchaourou with a giant “W” on the back of her casque, and Steve has instituted a new policy of giving himself a Buckeye on the 21st of every month served (we landed on the 21st).

The Things We Miss

While our lives here are full of new adventures and interests, we are not so blind as to realize that life marches on back home for the ones we love. In the past three months we’ve missed weddings, births, bar mitzvahs and all sorts of other happy events. Its been tough, pretty much the hardest part about being here, and luckily we’ve been able to rely on correspondence from friends and family to stay relatively in touch.

But there is also this. As of this morning, the Red Sox are off to the World Series against the Rockies, who were a sub-.500 team the week we left and lost a series in Denver to the lowly Royals the week before our wedding. The Patriots are undefeated and this year’s edition may be the best team of the dynasty so far. The Celtics have completely reinvented themselves with the Allen and Garnett deals and are among the title favorites in the NBA. And not only was this the year that Washington and Ohio State went head to head in college football (thus dividing our young household down the middle), but now the Buckeyes are the top ranked team in the country.

Somehow we get the feeling the sports gods are taunting us.

Les Freres Super Mario

Example #287 of globalization in action. Walking through town the other day I heard a sound that I could immediately identify on its own but refused to believe I was hearing in the current context. It seemed to be coming from a tin roof structure walled off from the street by an oily sheet, surrounded by a whole lot of people doing nothing. I figured it was a figment of my imagination, an accidental confluence of audible inputs that brought back a childhood memory. Then I heard it again from the tin shack, unmistakable for any American between the ages of 20 and 40 – Mario in a warp tube.

Forgetting everything I was supposed to be doing at that point, I made a direct line for the shack where I found two boys with a beat up TV playing the original Super Mario Brothers. Turns out there is a cottage arcade industry here, kids being charged 50 francs (about 12 cents) to play until they hit game over. Well, with 50 francs on the line I can assure you these kids play as if its life and death, knowing absolutely every nuance to the game – secret stars, level warp, invisible coins – and do not let anything distract them from the mission at hand. Not even the white man speaking broken French in astonishment that here he is in West Africa going through an unbelievable bout of cognitive dissonance can draw their attention.

And you know what, fair play to the person who figured out he could make some francs as long as the power doesn’t go out. Now if I could figure out the Nagot for Super Tecmo Bowl…

Food with a Capital “F”

While we’ve made an effort to update the Food File (see right), we think it’s necessary to say a few words about the general food situation.

The classic images of famine many of us associate with Africa don’t necessarily apply to here, but that’s not to say malnutrition isn’t an issue. Put in the simplest of terms, the culinary options are boundless and only limited by the unyielding stubbornness and/or indifference of the locals. We eat very well while just about everyone else eats the same three meals every single day. They choose to eat Pate (essentially Elmers paste, corn flour suspended in boiled water through 2 solid hours of stirring) with a primarily tomato paste sauce seasoned with powdered chicken stock and palm oil. This stuff is just awful, fills you for the sake of filling you. The Beninese also eat that and In'game Pilet, which is only a slight improvement over pate as it was at least a tuber to start with. The gigantic, furry potato that is an In'game, when petrified in a large wooden mortar by two mamas using pestles the length of golf club. Usually served with the same red sauce as well as a couple of pieces of fried wagashi cheese (ricotta with the water -- and flavor -- pressed out).

That said, we're eating well seeing as how we know what we're doing a bit in the kitchen. Our first week here in town Steve had a bunch of time on his hand and the 1964 edition of the Joy of Cooking, which he proceeded to read cover to cover. It was a great primer for cooking here because a) it traded in ingredients at there most base level and b) there were far fewer of the kitchen gadgets available so the tools involved are available locally.

Overall, eating tons of fresh tropical fruit, using the In'game in the millions of ways one uses a potato, and the meat is so fresh I have to wait for the cow to finish bleeding out before I can order (making things better, because they over-cook everything, all meat is priced the same. 1400 francs for a kilo, regardless of cut. Put another way, we can get an 8oz filet minion for under a buck.)

All in all, we’re having the most success with meals that actually come from our traditional family recipes. With the ingredients available, most traditional Jewish and Norwegian food can be reasonably replicated.

Things We Never Thought We’d Get Used to Seeing

Things We Never Thought We’d Get Used to Seeing:


- A commercial truck with 20 horned steers barreling down the highway, with men in hammocks suspended above the cattle.
- Straight men walking down the street holding hands.
- Children bathing in a puddle, and just being glad they’re using soap.
- Buying a bottle of peanut oil in the market (already in a used beer bottle), only to have the woman selling it pouring it into a thin black plastic bag.
- Watched one child slap another on the head with a closed pair of scissors and thought is “Wow, where did they get scissors?”
- Beef being sold not from a butcher counter but rather from a tray on a woman’s head (not where we get ours because of Steve’s budding friendship with our local abattoir).

The Work

Sure, it all looks like fun, but what are you actually DOING over there with our tax dollars?

Jaren:

I am working with the CPS (Centre de Promotion Sociale) here in Tchaourou, where my main objectives are to: 1) reduce malnutrition among women especially pregnant women and children; 2) promote better hygiene and sanitation behaviors and; 3) provide support to People Living with HIV. Though I just started working, I am already assisting the local hospital with baby weighings, which determines if a child is malnourished or not. If a child is malnourished, it is my responsibility to educate the mother on the appropriate nutrition to increase its’ weight and overall health. Another immediate project is an overall health assessment of the village. I am observing health behaviors throughout town and will present this information along with possible solutions (education, projects, trainings, etc) to the town officials after 3 months.

Future projects will include educational seminars on HIV/AIDS, instruction on better sanitation and hygiene practices to market women, and production of a moringa garden to harvest as a recuperation supplement for the malnourished.

A typical baby wieghing

Steve:
More management consultant than the antiquated notion of what a Peace Corps volunteer is, I am working with the Artisans Collective -- a deceiving name because very few are actual artists. Rather, its essentially the equivalent of the SEIU, an overarching umbrella union representing every manner of manual labor. I develop programs to teach management (accounting, marketing, planning), as well as consult one-on-one with artisans on specific projects.

I'm also interested in working with the national Chamber of Commerce on some branding projects as they are an organization with a sadly low profile. I may also try to develop a class on business journalism here at the University in Parakou business school. Considering this is one of the 10 most corrupt countries in the world, sunshine can be a hell of a disinfectant.

Oh, that and I've spent a good bit of time hanging out with our local butcher getting to know what the inside of a cow smells like. Nice guy, although the cow probably doesn't think so.

Market on market day - the economic heart of Beninese life

Home in Tchaourou

Chez Nous. Take the main road north out of Cotonou five hours and then ask for the white couple. That would be us.

We live in a concession (walled in lot a little less than an acre) with two other families. To our left is the Chef d’Arrondisment - the mayor by American standards - and to our left are the Opposi family, the matriarch of which happens to also be Jaren’s counterpart.

For some general pictures of the place before we moved in, check the old post from our first visit. However , we’ve made a few changes, the biggest of which being the complete swap of the living room and kitchen. In addition to now heating our food in a room twice as large (thus cutting the amount of sweating down to “everpresent,” a vast improvement over “swimming pool”), it also gives us a proper guest room in the back.

The other change is the status of the latrine, which was vastly improved with one simple addition:
Before and After





And now Steve can get some thinking done, although the shower is still out of the equation. Without plumbing, whatever pondering he might do in the shower is really just time he’s standing like an idiot naked and wet in the back yard.

Day One, Met the President

... which needless to say set the bar pretty high for day two. So we’d been in town for just a few hours, all in the house moving furniture and putting stuff away. Being Monday, it was market day and we thought we’d head out to pick up some basics. Well, after 45 minutes of wandering, we couldn’t find it -- partly because everyone we asked said it was la bas and pointed in a random direction. For the unfamiliar, the two things you need to know about la bas is that the best possible translation into American English is “yonder,” and it is used by the Beninese to describe every place that is not close enough to touch. We didn’t know if we were looking at 10 feet or 10 miles, but such is life here in Africa.

So wandering off a side street onto the main road, we are greeted with two SUV’s with flashing lights, neither of which is a common site around here. Jaren made some off handed crack like “Maybe it’s the Boni Yayi out for a walk” at which I chuckled, but after a few seconds we realized it actually was the President out to shake some hands and kiss some babies.

Again with the disclaimers: What follows is simply a description of a brief salutation of a sitting head of state, specifically the state of which we are technically an invited guest. No political preference is contained there within.

Turns out given the pace of the procession and our location, there was only about 5 seconds between our arrival on the street and the President’s passing. Needless to say, when the man who grew up in this town saw two white faces looking back at him, more than just a handshake was in order. Dr. Yayi stopped, offered brief salutations in French to which we replied in kind, and then flat out asked us why we were here. We told him we were with the Peace Corps and that we were living here in Tchaourou. He didn’t seem to believe it at first, that we lived in Tchaourou, not Parakou or another larger area, but he did seem genuinely pleased. He inquired about our work, and the responses about business development and health education appeared to please him even more.

Then came the coolest part:

YAYI, Dr. Boni, President of the Republic of Benin and former head of the West African Development Bank: “Eka Bo.”

TICHY: Jaren, Peace Corps Volunteer and former head of the Central Valley High School Cheerleading Team: “Eka Bo.”

YAYI, Boni: “E ji da da?”

TICHY, Jaren “Dada.”

Even if it was just a brief conversation, Jaren was able to greet the President in Nagot, his native tongue. With a large smile on all three of our faces we shook hands again and he continued on with the procession.

We were honestly a bit star struck, totally forgetting to pick up groceries (good thing we brought some noodles with), headed home and contemplated what tomorrow had in store for us.

Life on the Road

This post actually starts on a personal note for Steve. For many years, Steve’s Uncle Ron, husband of his mother’s sister Ruth, has had a special place in Steve’s heart for his incredible capacity for spatial creativity. Nobody got more containers in a fridge or random items in a car than Ron. To the later, he once put a 12-foot ladder in a Geo Prizim, and with enough leftover space for the groceries to feed a family of six. Ron was the king of moving copious amounts of stuff using as little vehicular power as possible.

Note that last sentence. “Ron WAS the king.” After three months in West Africa, we have seen some of the most terrifyingly impressive displays of human ingenuity/ recklessness on the nation's highways and byways.

See this as a pretty standard example
:

This was our car heading to Tchaourou for the big move – petty by local standards:


Somedays you see station wagons with the trunk and rear seat filled to capacity with oranges (ah the humor that must be opening that rear hatch). Other times it’s 12x100lb sacks of grain on the top of a sedan, a sedan with no fewer than 14 people in the cab.

We, of course, take every precaution to be safe as prescribed by the Peace Corps and the embassy security officials. But Ron -- if you’re reading this -- the challenge is calling, how far will you go?

Swear-In -- September 21, 2007

The morning our official oath was taken, we had a lovely ceremony at the Ambassador's residence. Unfortunately, because of security concerns, no cameras were allowed in the ceremony proper and we have yet to get the official shots digitized.

We did, however, get some good group shots of the various sectors before hand.

Side Note - the Beninese never smile for photos, and for some reason think we're silly for doing so. Thus the reason why some look just a little too serious.

Teaching English as Foreign Language (TEFL)

Enviromental Advocacy (EA)

Information and Communication Technology (ICT)

Rural Community Health (RCH)

Small Enterprise Development (SED)

There ceremony itself included greetings from the Ambassador, the Country Director, as well as the Ministers of Health, Education and Tourism. We were also treated to the considerable MC'ing skills of Jacque Bio, head of Peace Corps Benin's Small Enterprise Development and Information and Communication Technology sectors.

Finally, short speeches were given in all the local languages, including one in Nagot from Jaren. While the actual speech wasn't audio recorded, we will make a recording of it and post it on this site.

Swear-In mustaches

The Small Enterprise Development sector this year is widely regarded as a little different than the rest. First off, we’re predominantly male, which is honestly a coincidence. There is also the fact that given the personalities involved, the group has a robust sense of humor and no problem with self-deprecating humor. That, dear reader, is the parentage of our most peculiar development to date – the swear in mustaches.

After a few weeks after arriving in Azove, it became clear that shaving was not really a priority for most of the group. Five o’clock shadows got grizzly and grizzly beards turned into sources of immense pride for the wearer. Some barbes were even given considered personalities all their own.

When time came to swear in, the group knew that looking like a scruffy group of hobos was simply not acceptable at an official function held in the Ambassador’s residence. They needed to be cleaned up without losing their fun-loving nature.

Thus, the mustaches.

Day in Grand Popo

Situated on the southern coast of the country, a few kilometers away from the historic slave port of Ouidah sits the small fishing village of Grand Popo. This is about as close to luxury as one gets in the parts, sparsely populated and totally lacking in the "boxed fun" that seems to come with developed resorts. After the rigor of our pre-service learning we were blessed with a day of R&R there.

What follows are a handful of pictures from our time there, sun but an unswimable surf. Enjoy!

The heroes of our tale

Some seriously wicked undertow makes the beach less than safe to swim in, so we didn't

We were 80% of the beach population that day



Relaxin'

Steve Meyers aka "Big-uh Steve"

Djohossou Family Picture

Our Beninese family.


L to R (ou bien au droit du gauche):

Front - Marius, Sylvie, Carole, Fidel, Emilie, Julius
Back - Isabella, Romeo, Jaren, Steve, "Papa" Antoine, "Mama" Henriette.

For their bottomless reserve of patience and kindness, we also bought the family a piece of our meme tissue (seen here and here). When we go back to Azove next year to visit, everyone in this picture should be wearing the same.

Jaren's Trip to Ouidah

The Health and Environment sectors took a day trip to Ouidah, former slave trade port and birthplace of Voodoo. The day was spent going around to the different museums, sites and monuments including the former Portuguese fort built in the 1600s; the Sacred Forest for Voodoo believers; the Python Temple (again for Voodoo believers); the auctioning-off site of slaves; and the UNESCO World Heritage site/monument for the slave trade.

Pictures of the above can be seen here: