Jessamyjoy's travel blogs:
- Senegal 2007
- Two months translating, interpreting and... 2005
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Bonne arrivee!
Entry 9 of 33 | show all | print this entry |
"Bonne arrivée! Bonne arrivée!" Every smiling face, every warm handshake. "Bonne arrivée! Bonne arrivée!" Shouts across the courtyard, nods in the kitchen, everyone welcoming me (lit. good arrival) "Bienvenue au Bénin!" I felt very welcome. My first thought as I stepped off the plane, "I'm in Africa." This is my first thought every time I wake up in the night, when I climb out from the mosquito net in the morning, when I'm locking my clanging tin door to leave for the day, "I'm in Africa." I am in Africa. A broad smile comes to my face when I think of the movies I've seen, books I've read and years I've talked about coming here...maybe not thinking I ever really would.
My second thought, "Huh. Not that hot." I have to say, I've had this thought every day since as well! Who knew? The rainy season is thus far devoid of rain for the northern area of Benin, but "ça vient, ça vient". It's coming. In the meantime, even if the Béninois are still hot, I'm doing just fine thank you very much. Spiders are no bigger than at home, only had one mosquito bite so far and I didn't see him just like I haven't seen any others. Bright yellow, orange and black lizards dart around the mango trees as I walk past. Large yellow and black butterflies flit around the fuchsia flowers that vine around anything nearby.
A yellow-vested porter called my name in the tiny crowded airport. He showed me the pen on his hand and I answered, "Oui, c'est moi." I told him I only had one bag, he pointed out the other missionary I knew was on the plane, Don, a Canadian my age. The porter guided me to the police baggage check where the stern-faced man glanced at me and tapped my biggest bag quickly. "On a passé" the porter explains and indeed, we were through, not so much as a zipper touched. Other missionaries await me, two white and a Béninois. The van won't unlock as usual and we laugh as the Norwegian woman driving builds muscle turning the stubborn no power steering wheel with all her might to weave between pedestrians, motos and potholes.
The SIM guesthouses in Cotonou where I arrived and Parakou where I live are quite western. Aside from the cement floors and walls and the brightly colored, patterned fabrics on the beds and windows, everything is familiar. I have cold running water and if I so desire I can set a time for hot water in the shower. I've yet to so desire. We get water from a filtered tap in the main guesthouse where we can also eat breakfast for $1.50, lunch and dinner for $4 or more. For the first few days I'm in a regular guesthouse room but next week when Bridget, my look-alike who everyone thinks I've come to replace but haven't, leaves I will move into her house which is a one bedroom with a kitchen, a phone and I can hook up to the internet! Hardly the bush some of you feared I'd wander haplessly into!
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