TravelStream™ news feed for member rebeccamrljak on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/rebeccamrljak en-us Copyright ©2010 TravelPod.com Tue, 19 Sep 2006 05:37:58 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1155721020/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1155721020/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1155721020/tpod.html Tue, 19 Sep 2006 05:37:58 -0400 My experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin.

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Copargo, Benin

Well, I happy to report that I've officially messed up. No, no, it wasn't anything major and I found that I was laughing at myself as it was happening, but I thought I'd share what is probably the first of many language/culture mix-ups that I experienced the other day.

So, after coming home from using the telephone, I was hanging out outside with my family watching my mama prepare dinner and pretending to play with the kids when the electricity went out. This isn't usually a big deal and comes back on within a matter of minutes, but this time, it was getting darker and darker outside and the electricity wasn't back on. So, my mama left to go get gas for the lanterns and I stayed at home with the kiddos. We were just hanging out, taking in the atmosphere and relaxing. My neighbor girl came over and I like talking to her because she's young and speaks French in a way that I can understand. So, as we were chatting, I heard the music at the buvette (or bar) nextdoor come on. Sweet, I was thinking, the electricity is back on. So I ask the neighbor girl to turn the outside light on and she goes, no the electricity is cut. But, I insisted that it wasn't because I heard music at the buvette. She told me, no, no, they have a group. Oh, awesome, I was thinking. So, when my mamas both returned, I proposed that we go over to the buvette to see the group. They were thinking I was crazy (and soon you'll see why) and politely rejected my invitation. I said, well I would like to go over and that I heard them playing the song that I always heard my mama singing, so we should definitely go over. Finally, they complied and my mama and I walked over in the dark with a little flashlight to see the group. When we got there, I was pleased to see a power generator. Yes, that's right, a power generator. Turns out, group can either a music group or a power generator. Who knew?! Well, I guess I do now. Needless to say, my mama, the buvette workers and myself all shared a good laugh. No wonder they thought I was crazy for wanting to see a power generator. Moral of the story: when the electricity is cut and you hear music at the buvette, do not assume that there is a live performance.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1158226500/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1158226500/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1158226500/tpod.html Tue, 19 Sep 2006 05:36:44 -0400 My experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin.

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Copargo, Benin

Okay, so I exaggerated a bit with that title (ripping off one of my childhood favorite reads, "Alexander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day"), but I thought I would share with you the events that have occurred today because they could only happen in Benin and they could only happen to me.

First, I need to explain this Beninese French concept of "doucement." Literally it means softly, but here, the Beninese take it to a new level. They use it sort of in the place that one would say "be careful" or "watch out." It's actually pretty polite and they say it when you happen to trip accidentally while walking, or drop something or when you just need to be careful. But, to me (and Amy, too) it's taken on a sort of different meaning. To us, it's a bit rude because it's like you're in that moment when you're a bit embarrassed because you've just tripped and you hope that no one has noticed and then from way across the street someone shouts "doucement!" and then you realize that your little tumble has not gone unnoticed. I mean, you have to be here to really understand the full impact of "doucement" on one's pride, but I think this general explanation will help to make my story better.

Okay...now that you have been educated on the "doucement," please allow me to continue...Well, the morning started out alright. I slept really well, woke up nice and early and was ready to have a bit of extra time to read my new book, "Baby Catcher" that my friend Emily lent me. So, I take my bucket to the well in the morning to fetch my water for a shower. Afterwards, I walked to the shower area, put my shampoo bottles on the ledge and I felt a bit of something funny from the wood when I tapped it with the back of my hand. But, I assumed it was my imagination or some bug and carried on without giving it much thought. So, I start with my shower and fill a cup with water to throw over my head. This always takes me a little while in the morning because I really have to psyche myself up for the initial shock of the cold water. Well, today, I was in for a real shock because, well, I got shocked - literally, shocked. As I threw the water up over my head, it touched the metal roof to the shower area which was apparently electrified this morning. The water itself then became charged and came pouring down on me in an electric shower leaving me startled and a bit scared. I quickly realized what was going on and ducked down as far as possible to finish my shower. I made it through the rest of the shower without harm and let my papa, an electrician, know about the issue. He quickly fixed everything and now it is once again safe to take a shower, thank goodness. Sadly, noone was there to "doucement" me.

So, after having my morning tea and bread, doing a little reading and a bit of a crossword, I headed off to the school on my bike ready to take on the day. As I'm approaching the school and going through the gate, I see my friends hanging out waiting for class to start and all the sudden there's a spiderweb on my face. I mean, we've all done that at least once. But, I have to say, this time it was a whole big spiderweb covering my face and bike helmet. As I was trying my hardest to get the thing off, I felt the spider crawling on my forehead. I got really startled at this point and perhaps a little frantic because Emily asked me what the heck was going on. I managed to steer my bike to the school and finished the spider/spiderweb removal there. Again, no one gave the good old "doucement," and I was mildly pleased.

My morning French class went well, but afterward I really had to use the bathroom. So, I head off to the latrine during our break and was just chit-chatting with Amy as we walked through the soccer field to the latrine. As we walked under the tree shading the latrines, I managed to, so gracefully, walk into a low branch of the tree injuring my forehead and leaving a red bump. Fortunately, Amy never fails on a "doucement" and after checking that I was genuinely okay, she busted out with the "doucement" making me feel like even more of a clutz.

Luckily, I made it through the next session alright (aside from a little boredom and my pen running out of ink as I was mid-doodle) and went to the nun's house to look at some crafts they had brought in from Burkina Faso. As I was getting off my bike, I fell over. You see, the side bag on my bike is full - perhaps too full - and I guess it weighs it down some making it easy for my bike to tip. So, I fell down causing a bit of a commotion and the nuns came running out to see what was up. Luckily, Amy "doucement"-ed me and all was well.

We ended the day with our final language interviews. Fortunately, that was about it for the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things that happened to me. I did pretty well and so did everyone else! All of us 11 health stagiaires will swear-in together next week and we are the only sector to have made it through stage all together - the other sectors have all had at least someone leave early. That makes us a pretty prideful sector right now and we spent the night celebrating at the buvette! So, it was a good ending to a not so good morning. And that's alllllllright.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1156843980/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1156843980/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1156843980/tpod.html Tue, 19 Sep 2006 05:34:59 -0400 My experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin.

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Bagou, Benin

This past week, for three nights, I went on my post visit. This was just a visit to where I will be living for the next two years to see the village and meet the people I will be working with. To start out the voyage from Copargo, I had a mini-bus ride to the "Capital of the North," Parakou. There were about 15 of us in the bus and it was all just other Peace Corps people, so it was pretty relaxed and the trip was only a little over 2 hours. The next leg of the trip was a little more on the interesting side, however. I took my first ever true bush taxi ride with my homologue (or work partner). Her name is Amina and she is the nurse mid-wife at the health center where I will be working. She is really great and takes really good care of me. This first ever bush taxi ride was sort of the stereotypical bush taxi ride that you always hear stories about. It started out okay, I was in the back of a 9-seater car with Amina and her sister and nephew who were coming with us for a bit of a vacation. The car was full from the beginning with 10 people total. As we made our trip up north, people got out of the car at their stops and just as I thought there would be room to spread out and get a little more comfortable, 2 more people would get in. And just when I thought, okay, we can't get anymore people in here, more people would jump in for the ride. At our largest capacity, we were carrying 3 people and the driver in the front seat, 9 people and a chicken in the middle seat and in the back, we were holding strong with just 4 - I would say we had it the most comfortable out of everyone. The trunk was filled up with bags and was overflowing into the back seat and the roof was piled high with baskets full of eggplant and tomato. The 3 hour ride ended up taking 5.5 hours between all the loading and unloading of people and animals and food. By the end, I was experiencing some major "flat ass" syndrome where my bum felt like it was a pancake and I could barely feel it from all the sitting still. However, I'm sure this experience pales in comparison to other bush taxi rides I will take and that others have taken. But, for my first one, it was a pretty accurate picture of what to expect from what I can understand. You know, it could have been worse, though. At least I wasn't car sick and at least the weather wasn't that warm because it had rained in the morning and at least I didn't have to hold a chicken or goat in my lap.

I didn't get to see much of my village until the 2nd day of my visit. That day we took a tour to meet the king and some delegates and see my new house! My house is in a concession with about 4 other families who all seem really great. I have a modest two room house with an awesome jungle scene painted on the wall that the volunteer before me finished. Speaking of this volunteer before me, everytime I met anyone during my visit, they brought up this volunteer Amy. It's a bit annoying because I'm not her and won't ever be her and don't people to have expectations of that, but it's very clear that she (and the Peace Corps) have left a positive impression on the community and people seem to be excited to be working with a volunteer again. I've just got to make myself a place in community and show them what I have to offer. I guess it's good that they understand what the Peace Corps is and what I am there to help out with, too. Later, we went to visit the orphanage in the village run by Catholic nuns and I met the Argentinian Catholic priest who is the only other white person in the village besides me. Bagou was a nice little place and I'm looking forward to living there and being able to make it my home. It's amazing how nice it felt to return to Copargo, though, because in just this short time, it has already become familiar to me and feels more and more like home each day. My family here was so glad to see me as I stepped into the living room after running from the bus through the rain and I was certainly glad to see them!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1155893520/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1155893520/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1155893520/tpod.html Tue, 19 Sep 2006 05:33:21 -0400 My experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin.

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Copargo, Benin

In an awe-inspiring discussion of health and nutrition and the market and all things Benin, one of our Beninese facilitators said,

"You are here to fix choses-la."

Choses-la means, literally, things there. But, in Beninese French it is a discreet way of saying diarrhea. So, in case any of you were wondering why I'm here, there's your answer. I'm here to fix choses-la.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1157016660/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1157016660/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1157016660/tpod.html Tue, 19 Sep 2006 05:32:02 -0400 My experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin.

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Copargo, Benin

Well, here I am celebrating my 22nd in Benin! What a day, and how different it is compared to my 21st that I celebrated in a much more drunken manner. But, I have to say that I had a pretty swell birthday. To start, perhaps it's important to understand that birthdays here in Benin are of much less significance than they are in the US (to me, anyway). I might have mentioned this before that many people don't even know their own birthdays and it's just seen as another day. So, knowing this, I didn't expect too much in terms of a celebration or any kind of recognition, but I was pleasantly surprised.

The morning started out much like many other mornings with me waking to the sound of roosters crowing. I got ready for my day and put on my special birthday dress that had been prepared just for my big day and went to my language class. On my way to the school, I treated myself to a little fried dough ball for breakfast and meanwhile attracted about 20 flies that accompanied me on my walk (they must have known it was my birthday). They day progressed much like many others do here and we got to go into a nearby village to practice doing baby weighings and giving sensibilisations to the mothers about nutrition and the 3 food groups here (force, growth and protection). Things went really really well - I can't wait to really get started doing this stuff in my own village with my own group of mothers and in my own way - it should be pretty cool.

We were back in time for lunch, had some afternoon technical sessions and some mail came in on the truck, so I got some on-time birthday wishes which was pretty cool and totally unexpected. I came home and headed straight for the buvette (bar) right next to my house. We had a bit of a party there with just some hanging out and a little boxed wine/beer drinking. My mamas were busy making dinner for us all. They made us salad (which is a rare treat here) complete with allllllll sorts of fresh vegetables and lettuce. We were in paradise with the food and stuffed our faces till we couldn't anymore. I got a pagne (cloth that is used to make clothing or wrap skirts out of) from my language facilitator, Constant. He is such a fun, patient man and also very funny - he plans on moving to the states and going by the name of Bill Jackson.

All in all, I have to say that my birthday went really well. It was much more than I could have ever asked for and I was just glad that it wasn't totally forgotten (perhaps my persistent nagging helped with this aspect).
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1157880540/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1157880540/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1157880540/tpod.html Tue, 19 Sep 2006 05:30:30 -0400 My experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin.

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Copargo, Benin

Well, today was the day of the baby's baptême. Yes, the word is the same for baptism, but this was no baptism, my friend. Well, I've never actually been to a baptism, so I can't really say, but this is a Muslim family we're talking about here, so I'm pretty sure it wasn't your typical Christian baptism.

It's a Sunday, so I anticipated sleeping in a bit, doing my laundry and helping out with the festivities. Well, I was rudely awoken at 6:00 am by blasting music in the room next to mine. I thought that I might be able to sleep through it but that proved completely impossible, so I sucked it up and got myself out of bed. After taking some tea and bread for breakfast, I started my laundry. By 7:00 women were showing up with large pots (the biggest pots I've ever seen), sticks for the fire and other random basketfuls of things balanced on their heads.

Men and women came by all morning to offer their congratulations and at one point I heard some screaming going on from the baby's room. I wasn't really sure what was going on, but I heard so high-pitched noises. My papa explained that this was the part of the day when the baby was officially receiving his name. The father of my papa's best friend did the naming. The name, you ask? Drumroll please...Sani Moudjahidou Oscar. Sani is his father's name and that then becomes the baby's last name (which goes first here in Benin). Moudjahidou is his given name. It is pronounced something like MOO-JIE-DOO. Also, this is strickingly similar to how people mispronounce my last name here. Oscar was the name given by me and the name of my own grandfather. The family and friends here thought this was a great choice and were pretty tickled that I, the white American girl, gave the baby a name. People keep referring to this newborn as my fiancé and that I have someone to take back with me to the US now. Personally, he's a little young for my tastes.

While doing my laundry, I noticed that there was a bit of commotion going on behind me. When a baby is born it is customary to kill a goat for the party. The commotion was some men getting the goat ready for the slaughter. Knowing what was about to ensue, I asked my papa if they were about to kill the goat and after he verified that, I quickly moved to my room and let my laundry for a second. I was a little flustered but pulled myself together and emerged from my room again after about half an hour so I was sure that the slaughter was over.

After finishing my laundry, I washed up and got down to work with the women preparing the food. The first meal was of pâte and sauce. This wasn't just your everyday pâte and sauce, however. The pot that we made it in was absolutely humongous - there was enough food to feed probably close to 80 people! Maybe that doesn't sound like a ton, but no one was catering this for us and there's no such thing as industrial sized stoves or pre-washed vegetables. I mean, there's not even a sink so doing anything with water means getting it from the well. It was pretty incredible to watch this all. Kids and mothers were running around and venders came by the house selling shoes and coconuts and popcorn.

As if the first meal wasn't enough, a gigantic pot of pasta and sauce was made after the lunch was served and that was eaten around 2pm. At around 5pm, rice and sauce was ready for eating and then finally at 7pm, a salad was served as well as ice cold sodas and beer. The party during the day was more for friends and family and then the special drinks and food at night were reserved for the "invitees."

Throughout all of the craziness that was this party, the mama to the newborn sat in her room receiving peoples' congratulations and gifts. I kind of expected that she would come out at some point to mingle with the guests and do a sort of grand unveiling of the baby, but this didn't happen. Instead she sat in her hot room, all dressed up and looking so beautiful with jewelry and makeup and a new hairdo and pretty clothes. Throughout the day, people brought in her meals and it was just her day to rest. By the end of the day, her headboard was loaded with soaps, powders and little outfits and hats for the baby.

By the end of the night, I'm feeling absolutely exhausted and ready for a good night's sleep. But, the party continues outside with music and all - thank goodness for the AirFrance earplugs that I saved for a special occasion!

Tomorrow, the elderly woman from the mosque who has been washing the baby twice daily will come over in the morning to wash the baby and shave the beautiful black curls off his head.

Bon baptême!
-Rebecca
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1157275620/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1157275620/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1157275620/tpod.html Tue, 19 Sep 2006 05:28:51 -0400 My experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin.

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Copargo, Benin

It's a boyyy! My pregnant mama, Roukiat, finally gave birth to a beautiful baby boy! Saturday night I was socializing with my friends at the buvette next to my house when my non-pregnant mama, Saidat, came over to borrow my friend's moto to take Roukiat to the hospital. They came home after a "false alarm" and I told Roukiat goodnight - I guess the baby will be born tomorrow. Well, after I came back outside for my shower, the mamas were gone again, at the hospital. The baby was born on Sunday morning at around 1 am! I went to go visit them today at the hospital and later they were home. The baby got named a name that I'm not sure how to spell, but it is pronounced something like Mu-Jye-Du. And, interestingly enough, it pronounced eerily close to the way they pronounce my last name here. So, the Mrljak name carries on around the world. I was also asked by my papa to give the baby a name, so I was left with the arduous task of coming up with a name that is American and also easily pronounceable in French and Dendi (the local language they speak). So, I stuck with the family names and gave him the name Oscar after my maternal grandfather. I thought this was a good choice and it's also a name that my family knows, so it worked out well, and they liked the fact that it was my grandfather's name. So far, the baby's been pretty easy and I haven't been woken by him in the middle of the night crying. I forgot how tiny newborns are and, I have to say that the little squirt has made my maternal instinct (and this new idea of becoming a mid-wife) kick in hardcore. I love the way they squirm and smell and the blank stares they give when they open their eyes. But, over the next years I will have plenty of babies to keep me busy (because my assignment is working with a mid-wife) so I think I'll have my fill and don't need any of my own any time soon.

So, this little guy planned his birth perfectly to coincide with my schedule, and I thank him for this. We only have the day off on Sunday here, so I got to see all the hustle and bustle at the house with a newborn, but also, the naming ceremony in the mosque and the party for the baby is always a week after the birth, so I get to be present for that! I can't wait! Until the naming ceremony, an elderly woman from the mosque comes over each morning and each evening to wash the baby. She washes him with what seems to be very hot water (although, he doesn't mind) and afterward she uses a black eyeliner type pencil to apply some makeup to his forehead and eyes. After giving him back to his mama, she prays. I have to say that I've been pretty lucky to get to see the cultural/religious practices of having a baby and I can't wait to see all the family and friends that come over Sunday for the par-tay! I'm thinking of whipping up some guacamole or something mildly American for the occasion.

The mama has been back at work and only rests a little more than she would otherwise. We have a ton of visitors daily to come over and see the baby and wish the family the best. Also, the family friends have pitched in with all the housework and there is a woman that comes to help with food preparation and another little girl that comes over to get water and sweep and do simple chores. It's kinda neat to see everyone come together around the birth and I think it defines the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child." Also, the mama has been eating a special sauce at dinner that has a special tree root, basil and other nutritious things in it to help the mama have plenty of vitamins and be able to breastfeed well. This is the perfect way to observe and learn and ask questions about traditions regarding birth and motherhood, so I've been busy taking it all in and making the most of this experience.

Until next time-
Rebecca
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1152190260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1152190260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1152190260/tpod.html Sat, 12 Aug 2006 08:52:05 -0400 My experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin.

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Copargo, Benin

Today, I had the pleasure of meeting Sani's more extended family. He took me to Djougou on his moto (about 30 minutes from home). We started out at his place of work. He not only is an electrician, but today he took me to see his photography studio, too. There was a little room for taking pictures and also a dark room. It was pretty cool to see. He also has a studio in Copargo. And, it can be said without doubt, he is a popular guy all around this area - everyone seemed to know him. It's nice, though, because I can just say who I'm living with, and there are no problems. He's a very well-liked guy and this is a great thing for me. Then, we rode down to his house where he grew up. On the way, we passed his school. It seemed that he was getting a little nostalgic as he pointed out the different parts of his town. Then, we got to his house where he grew up. Some of his brothers and other various extended family live in neighboring houses, so I got to meet the whole kit and caboodle. I was greeted by uncles and cousins and brothers and other random family. So many people, I don't think I could ever keep track and I don't know how he does. After being greeted by everyone and using my best French to introduce myself, we went to his childhood home. His grandfather lives there with his wives and after saying hi to all of them, we went to his grandfathers room. His grandfather is apparently 105 years old. Don't get me wrong, he definitely looked old, but I don't know if 105 is quite accurate. Either way, he's certainly the oldest person I've seen since being here. You see, here birthday's aren't a big deal. Many people don't know their birthday or age and if they do, it's often times just something like "after the rainy season in 1975" or something. That's fine, but it's interesting to hear the mixed reviews I get on peoples' ages. All I know is that I made sure that my family here knows my birthday. They're already planning a little outing to the "buvette" (bar) for my birthday. I'm pretty happy about that since I tend to make a big deal out of birthdays. Getting back to my story...his grandfather was this very stereotypically old, wise man. He gave me advice (as translated from Dendi into French by Sani) and said that he would keep me in his prayers. After a couple pictures with him and about 1,000 other kids that wanted to be in the picture, we were on our way back home. The rest of my Sunday was spent like many of my others - wandering somewhere between my room and the courtyard, making myself busy with reading, relaxing, playing guitar and writing. I did have a meeting with my APCD (supervisor guy), Gabe, to talk about what things I wanted in my post (where I will be living for the next two years after staging). It was just very basic to see how I was adjusting to this lifestyle and gauging if I thought I could live an even more rural lifestyle. I can't really say since I haven't done it yet, but I think I could live without electricity. Of course, that would mean even fewer blog entries, but I'm willing to sacrifice that, so long as my faithful readers are, too (wink, wink). Anyway, I will know on Friday where my post will be! This is very exciting!!! I'm ready to finish up with this training already and get things going at post. We're learning a lot and I'm ready to put it into action, mannn.

Much love,
Rebecca
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1154111580/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1154111580/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1154111580/tpod.html Sat, 12 Aug 2006 08:50:23 -0400 My experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin.

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Copargo, Benin

Here are a few of the cultural differences from a worksheet that we received comparing and contrasting American and Beninese cultures:

Benin- you can assume that sleepers are tired and can sleep though most noises, as they have been doing since they were babies. In fact there is no private space between mother and children. They usually have the same room.
USA- do not make too much noise when others are sleeping, especially when there is a baby in the house: Children need calm and quiet for sleeping.

Benin- sit/stand as close to people as possible. Otherwise, they will think you unfriendly. Also, when people are sick or grieving, stay around them as much as possible. It is okay if you do not talk.
USA- avoid invading people's private space, especially when they are sick or grieving. If people are alone, it may be because they want some private time.

Benin- meals are served according to age and sex, in small groups (mothers together, children together, father alone or with other male adult).
USA- meals are taken at the table together; each member has his/her own plate.

I can include more of these interesting cultural notes in other entries. For now, I am just trying to fit in, make sense of all of these things and work on my language skills. It has been mildly stressful adjusting to a new culture, dealing with new people (Americans included), eating new food (I had a scrambled egg - another new food for me - and noodles for dinner), adapting to the temperature and weather and trying to find time to relax.

One last thing, the family has a lot of chickens that run around the compound. They use them for food (eggs and chicken). Well, I think I was okay with the whole attempting to eat meat thing until I watched the kids catch the biggest chicken today. I told the moms last night that I wanted to try chicken before I attempted beef, but now I'm not so sure. As a result of my stress level and other factors, I almost broke into tears when I asked where they were going to kill the chicken. Fortunately, they did it behind the house. But, it didn't stop me from breaking into a cold sweat and feeling like my heart was going to burst it was beating so fast. I just tried to concentrate on the orange I was peeling (which, I should say, all the fruit is FANTASTIC!). I guess we're all just a part of the circle of life (I just need to keep telling myself that).

Wishing you the best,
Rebecca
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1154436480/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1154436480/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/rebeccamrljak/beck_in_benin/1154436480/tpod.html Sat, 12 Aug 2006 08:48:49 -0400 My experiences as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Benin.

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Copargo, Benin

I woke to the independence, cha cha song playing on repeat this morning. Today, is Benin's independence day and they are celebrating 46 years of independence. After a little breakfast, my papa took me on his moto to the celebration. It was about a 30 minute ride outside of our village down a dirt road. They view on the way is absolutely amazing. I happened to take my bike the same route the day before, but this time we went the whole way to a village where the ceremony for the independence would be held.

My morning consisted of me walking around meeting all the local village and county chiefs, mayors, police, etc. You name 'em, I met 'em. My papa is a pretty popular man himself - it seems that everyone knows him. So, I spent the morning practicing how to introduce myself in French and got to tell everyone that my name is Sani Rebecca (signifying that I am his daughter). There was a little drumming action going on and once the parade of zemis came racing down the hill into the village, the ceremony started. They mayor spoke in French and someone translated into Dendi (the local language). My papa took tons of pictures (he is a photographer and electrician) and he was looking pretty snazzy in his grey suit and freshly shined shoes. After the ceremony, there was a little reception of sardine and onion sandwiches and sodas. It was a nice little way to celebrate the holiday. When we came home, we watched the parade in Cotonou on TV for a little bit. Aside from that, it was just another Tuesday. We didn't have classes so I spent the day just hanging out and doing a little laundry. No fireworks here for independence day.
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