Shrunken Heads and The Case of the Murdered Chicken

So I’ve heard through the grape vine that my posts have been a little lengthy, so I’ll try to keep this one a little bit shorter. Last week we had our technical visit, which has a few objectives. It’s right in the middle of stage, so we’re starting to get a much better idea of what we’ll be doing when we get to post. As a result, they wanted to give us a chance to see what the life of a typical volunteer is. In addition to that, we are supposed to also get an opportunity to relax for a few days and speak some English, and just get an idea of what it’s like to eat what we want to for a little bit.

Our adventure started by taking some Zemis to the market in the center of town, where we thought we negotiated a private taxi to Ahdjouhn, which is where we were headed for the visit. After picking up some wood and illegally smuggled Nigerian fully leaded gasoline (that’s how all of it is), we were on our way. I kept a keen eye on the guy in that back seat who was sitting in front of my bag, but I was told that he’d be crazy to steal anything from me as the taxi driver is ultimately responsible for my stuff. He’d prolly just light the guy on fire who tried to steal my things (and I’m not kidding, that’s just how things go here). After getting outside Porto Novo, we encountered some “Terre Rouge”, which is French for “red earth”, which is a fair description of the roads here. Luckily, it hadn’t rained in a while, so the roads had become relatively flat (for Beninese standards, I don’t think we got above 30 MPH). Once we approached Ahdjouhn, Andrew, the SED volunteer we were visiting, started talking to the driver to try to solidify the price. Well apparently, there was some miscommunication, and instead of paying what we thought was 3500 CFA (total) for 5 of us to rent a taxi for an hour, we ended up paying 4500 CFA. For those of you who are worried about my wallet after that, just know that it’s the difference between 7 dollars and 9 dollars…for 5 people…total. However, I was told that when you’re only making 180 bucks a month, you have to stop looking at the money in dollars….because then it just gets too easy to spend it. After a talk with the taxi police, they ruled that we were actually in the wrong. But there is that old adage “the customer is always right”, and in this case, even if we weren’t, him being a jerk to us cost him another fair to bring us all back to Porto Novo. What goes around….

After arriving, we unpacked and Andrew took us for a little tour around the village. Adjouhn was quiet, simple, and really provided the first natural beauty I’d seen since showing up. It is set just aside a river (whose name I forgot) that had recently flooded. This made for a spectacular view of the valley and flood plain. The picture really doesn’t do it justice. There was a wide array of housing for people, but most folks lived in mud huts. After greeting everyone in the village that we saw (literally), we had a chance to hang out in the garden, which is in the middle of the village. After a few refreshments, we headed back to Andrew’s house. He had spoken about another Non-Government Organization (NGO) that was in the area that was sponsored by the EU. Hoping that I’d run into some Italians, I suggested that we head over to say bonjour. Turns out there were no Italians, but we did meet the director, who was very cordial and gave us suggestions about all of our respective posts. Their goal as an NGO was to stop child trafficking, which is a really big problem in all of Western Africa. Though sex trafficking does happen, the larger problem is more when parents in Benin will send their children to Nigeria in exchange for money. Having children is a little different in Africa as it provides more mouths to feed, but also more hands to work on the house. In a sense, it is kind of how people invest in their own future. Back to the story.

So after our talk, we headed back to the house for a nice break of reading and nap time. It was nice to just have some time to myself that allowed me to relax a bit. Stage itself is fun, but when you are in an environment where everything is new, it’s also really draining. The rest of the week doesn’t need a play by play, but we did get a chance to go visit the CLCAM where Andrew works some of the time. It was nice to see some organization in a business that required a little more than stocking the one book case you have with an assortment of rice, peanut products, and other handy knick-knacks. CLCAM itself works as a savings and loan institution. In order to receive a loan, you must save with them. Each month, one will deposit however much money they want, and in return, CLCAM takes 1/31 of the money. This seems pretty expensive, and it is, but when there is such a large demand for lending, CLCAM can do this.

So since the beginning of stage, we’ve heard rumors that we’d learn how to kill a chicken. I finally got the opportunity. We were told to be at a friend of Andrew’s at 10 am, where his buddy’s wife was waiting with 2 chickens with their feet bound. So not to get to graphic, the way you kill a chicken, is first give it some water, and then tuck it’s head back so it can’t see you (apparently that’s bad luck). Then just make a small incision on the neck to let it bleed out. Sadly, after we let it bleed out, it started flying…so I had to lop off its head. YIKES

The other highlight of the week included a trip to a self-sustaining farm. To save some cash (and this is normal), we headed out there as doubles on a Zemi. That means that we had 3 people total on the motorcycle. Don’t worry, we have helmets :P . It was still pretty awkward though. The farm was great. It used the waste from the animals to fertilize the plants which would then go to feed the fish and rabbits. The guy who was running the place, named Pascal, actually started building some bungalows at the site that he is going to start renting out to people who want a place to get away. We get a special discount! It was incredible to see this guy’s motivation, and I’m sure that sometime we’ll head out there for a little down time. The ride back, though less scenic that than ride there, was far more eventful.

I explained in an earlier post about Vodun (or voodoo as it’s known in the states). Well, as we were heading back, the driver of our motorcycle stopped and told me that Laura, who was riding in back of me, needed to cover her head. I couldn’t figure out what he meant at first, but then I remembered how women aren’t supposed to see the Vodun because if they do, within three days, they will just drop dead…but not before getting a phone call! Sorry, that was insensitive, but it’s really hard for me to take this religion seriously when people claim that these guys can turn a man into a Yam. Other volunteers had told me that encountering Vodun was normal though, so I was a little nervous, but at least I’d been told ahead of time. To be culturally acceptable, the taxi driver took his sweaty shirt off and gave it to Laura, who then proceeded to put it over her head, then put the helmet on over the shirt (we need to wear that or else we get kicked out of the Peace Corps). So here we are, driving through a village with three people on a motorcycle, one of whom basically has a bag on her head. As we turn a corner, we start to hear drums and there were two men about 100 yards ahead holding an ivy rope across the road, signaling us to stop.

As we started to get closer, the drums got louder. A group of men ran up to the moto and started cheering and banging drums. They were all smiling, so I wasn’t too spooked, but Laura had her head covered, thus limiting her vision, and Beninese people are generally really loud, so to her, it sounded like they were yelling at us. I can’t imagine what must have been going through her head! A bunch of crazy eyed tribesmen with spears and shrunken human heads about to turn us into some sort of starchy vegetable is what I like to think. Anyways, they just wanted some money for the “toll” that everyone has to pay to pass, so because I only had 500 cent, or 1 dollar, I gave it to them. Normally you give like 25 CFA, so they were elated. They were patting me on the shoulders while I’m sure Laura thought I was getting beat up. I kept telling her “were ok” and “it’s just a group of men, nothing scary”. Either way, I don’t think there was much I could say to make her feel better given that she was riding blind, three deep on the back of a motorcycle in West Africa. So after cheering for a little while longer, they lowered their vine gate, and we zoomed away. Laura was visibly shaken after she took off this guy’s smelly shirt, but I just kept thinking about how tough these Peace Corps girls are. I think I would have peed my pants, which wouldn’t have been too good for the person in front of me…unless it was really cold. So that is all: crazy African story #1 in the books.

Getting back from Adjouhn wasn’t too bad. Just hopped on a zemi and zoomed on back. Not only was the zemi more fun, but it was oddly more comfortable because we didn’t hit nearly as many bumps. Yesterday, Papa and I had a chat (finally) about Christianity and Islam. It was great for about 90% of the talk because he was just explaining how Ramadan works, why they do it and so on. He also started showing me the parallels between Islam and Christianity (a LOT), and it really just gave me a sense of peace and community with him. But then….uh oh…we got into differences. He did most of the talking (mainly because of French), but needless to say, when you can’t defend your faith because you literally don’t know what the words are that you need to use, it’s frustrating. We just left it at, I don’t know why Catholics can eat pork, but I’ll get back to you on that. To him, I feel like any argument is a win/lose type thing, which is a far cry from what my discussions back in the States were. It was vaguely reminiscent of when I got into some arguments with my cousin Alfredo, in Italy, who is about the age of a grandpa. Religious arguments without citable facts never work out too well (call me if you want clarification on this, Fraser). Anyways, it was a great experience, and if nothing else, two hours of pure French.

Finally, today I had a neat experience where I misunderstood my sisters and brothers. I thought they said, “we need to go pray now”, and I said “ok”. Well what they actually said was “we”, including me. Still misunderstanding, I dropped to my knees and said, “ok, but when we pray, I need to pray like this”. Well I thought that maybe later we were going to go somewhere and pray, but they all dropped to their knees too and said “Soyez!”, which is kinda like “go”! It was really funny, because we were just hanging out with Mama by the well talking, and then all of a sudden there were a bunch of people of different faiths on their knees praying. Anyways, I thanked God for my “famille” here and asked that he give us whatever we need to be happy. They asked for money and food, which I guess equals happiness for some folks, especially in the world’s 9th poorest country. After the prayer, I headed off to bed.

I’m just so happy so far with my experience here. I’m starting to see how relative poverty really is. Everyone in the world has everyday life. If you are alive, you know what everyday life is. It’s just a matter of what a person values that determines how satisfied they can be with that life, everyday. People here in the capital don’t have much…at all, but they also don’t really realize what they don’t have, and that in itself is what I think makes anyone’s life seem normal. In a sense, the relative poverty that everyone shares here helps maintain the happiness of their life. What isn’t acceptable, and this is me the Peace Corps Trainee talking here, is when poverty results in preventable deaths and preventable crimes. I guess that’s one snippet of the reason that I’m here. Sorry to get all preachy, just thought it was a thought worth sharing.

And once again, I’ve gone and dropped another 6 pages of my life on the internet…sorry….deal with it. Thanks again for reading!

Prayer requests – That I’ll keep having good talks with my Papa and that I get more chances to share what I believe, assuming the other people want to find out. As always, the continued good physical and mental health and safety of the volunteers as we start to finish stage.